


Letters From Home

by CallMeHux



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke Endgame, Clarke pov, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fandom Trumps Hate 2017, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance, Modern AU, Pining, Prompt Fic, Red Herring Relationships, Slow Burn, doctor!clarke, historian!bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:03:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9627359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeHux/pseuds/CallMeHux
Summary: When Clarke moves to Philadelphia to start her residency, Bellamy unexpectedly decides to travel, leaving her facing the start of a new life without her best friend.  But at least she has his letters to look forward to and help her figure out what it is she actually wants.





	1. Chapter One - End of June

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Charlie, who won my Fandom Trumps Hate Auction with a Reasonable Bid but decided to donate Significantly More instead. For that, my dear, you get a novel. She had a very specific prompt, which I will not reveal here for the spoilery nature of it, but I will say it involves slow burn friends to lovers and letter-writing. I hope you like it!
> 
> Some warnings, especially for people new to my work. When I say "slow burn," I really mean it. If you're looking for them to get together within 20,000 words, this is not a story for you. Also, there will be other relationships that get in the way, including a possible NOTP for you. Obviously, this is Bellarke Endgame, but there will be others along the way.
> 
> Thanks to my beta, Anne, who read through this first chapter at least twice as I tried to make it just right. And thanks again to Charlie, for donating so much to the NRDC!

"Is it good or bad that we packed up my entire life in eight hours?" Clarke asked, looking around her soon-to-be vacated apartment dubiously.  The place wasn't anything special, just a simple one bedroom with a half-view of the park across the street - the other half being obstructed by the building next door - but it had been her home for three years and she felt the pang of leaving it behind.  It didn't seem right that it only took an evening and a morning to pack all of her possessions into boxes.

"You forget you've spent the last few months actively giving things away so you didn't have to pack them up," Bellamy replied, setting down the pizza on a box labeled "Bathroom."

She gave him a thin look, looking around for the box with the Kitchen label.  "Do you really think we should use that as a table..I mean-"

"It doesn't matter.  All of these boxes are equally dirty and equally appropriate as a table, since yours is dismantled. I have paper plates for you, as requested, napkins.  Just put your butt on the floor like a plebeian and let's eat," he responded, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a fond smile.  

She gave him a knowing smile in return and plopped down beside him, since she was already too tired to argue and the day wasn't even half over yet.  "Given that the first thing we ever did together was argue, I'm going to miss you terribly," she said, accepting the plate with a slice with a grateful nod.

"I'll admit, I have learned to appreciate your guilty liberal perspective," he teased, earning himself a shove in the arm.  He rocked away agreeably, mostly for show since she knew she hadn't pushed him hard enough to move him.

"I would say something equally as biting in return, but I'm the nice one, so I won't," she sniffed at him and matched his answering grin.  "Besides, it's not like you're _not_ liberal."

Clarke knew she would miss moments like this with him especially.  Somehow, after being assigned to a particular dorm by the university as resident advisers five years ago and fighting for the first month about everything, or so it seemed, they'd become this real leadership unit.  The kids called them "Mom and Dad" by the end of the year.  Another year together as R.A.'s and then, they'd moved out to the same apartment building, which was quickly filled by their old charges at the school.  The landlord had been thrilled that they seemed to be a draw and had been genuinely sorry when Clarke gave notice after she got her residency match in another city.

But Bellamy had been trying to get a position at the university and had been planning on staying….until he'd been informed that he hadn't gotten the job. And he hadn't gotten his back-up or his back-up back-up job either. So, with no prospects on the horizon, he'd given notice as well, and seemed set on moving in with his sister and her boyfriend.  It wasn't a situation he was happy with and Clarke could see how quickly it could all fall apart.

"Thanks for helping me with the last of this stuff.  The movers will put it all into a truck, but...you know how I like to be organized," she began, trying to give herself some time to put what she really wanted to say into words.  Somehow, when it was most important that she be clear and persuasive, she lost any ability to be articulate.

What she really wanted to say to her best friend and near constant companion these last few years was that she wanted him to stay with her in Philadelphia.  While they hadn't actually lived together before, always just in apartments in the same building, they'd spent more than enough time together for her to know they'd be compatible.  This way, he wouldn't risk damaging his relationship with his sister - only recently repaired after his truly epic freak-out over his little sister dating a guy older than he was - and well, Clarke would be less lonely.  

Her world revolved around school and her friends for so long, but now they were all scattering, with Wells in Boston and Raven in San Francisco, and while she was excited for her new job, she wanted one thing to stay the same.

She wanted Bellamy by her side.

He kept her grounded.  She kept him less insular.

Besides, it really would be better for him to live with her than his sister.  Anyone could see that.

"You?  Like organization?  I think the only thing you didn't give away besides some of your clothes was all your school supplies," he replied with a shit-eating grin.

" _Anyway_ ," she emphasized, trying to get back to what she wanted to say.  He wasn't going to distract her by trying to bait her into a relatively mild insult contest.  Which she would win, definitely, because she did not take losing well.

But she also didn't want to get into an insult war with him right now, since he'd just been turned down for a third job and she was about to leave.  This was the time to be a supportive friend, not a teasing antagonist.  Their kids had graduated, they'd earned their terminal degrees, their friends had all moved on to the next steps in their lives, and now even Clarke was moving on...and then there was Bellamy.  She knew without him having to tell her that it bothered him, that he felt stuck.  

He was doing a remarkable job of keeping that all under wraps today.  Usually, nearly everything he was thinking would be written on his expressive face, but today, he didn't really seem to have their impending separation on his mind.

And if she asked him this just right, he wouldn't have to think about it at all.

With that thought, she straightened and broached the subject directly, even as she picked up her slice of pizza.  "Since you, um, don't really have definite plans, I was thinking that-"

"Actually," he interrupted her easily as he picked off the mushrooms from his slice and put them on her plate, as he always did.  He didn't mind the vegetable but knew she loved them, so always gave them to her.  "I'm going to travel.  My flight leaves tomorrow for Turkey, but then I'm going to hit Greece, Italy.  Maybe Spain or Britain afterwards."

Clarke froze, her pizza slice halfway towards her mouth even as ice seemed to flood her veins.  "What?"

Bellamy shrugged.  "Look, as  you pointed out the first time I told you about moving in with my sister, that's not a good situation for us.  Things are okay between us, but ultimately, we've spent way too much time where I was her second parent and then her only parent to be comfortable living in her guest room with her and her boyfriend."

She nodded in reply.  That's exactly what she'd been saying since he'd revealed his stupid plan to her weeks ago.  "Yeah, but I don't know how you go from that to traveling the world right now.  Especially some place like Turkey, what with everything going on with our Moron-In-Chief," she answered, dropping her slice on her plate.

"I get that, I do."  He leaned back on his hands.  "But remember what you said about having to be honest with O from now on?  And her with me?  Well, the other day, I was over there and I told her, 'I think this is going to suck, for both of us,' and she agreed.  I'm just going to be mooching off them and even if O is okay with paying for me for awhile, I'm not, if I'm just going to be an anxious mess about finding a job.  So, Lincoln asked what I'd do if money wasn't the issue right now and I said, 'Travel.'  I've gone to a dig in Israel before, you know that, but I haven't really seen the sights of the ancient world, the way I always wanted.

"Well, he runs a successful business, and with the gym doing significantly better since O came aboard and brought in a whole new set of clients, they figured out for only a little more than what I would cost them to just hang out there, I can hang out in all the places I want to see.  It's living in hostels and crap like that, but at least I'd be doing something I want instead of watching my sister make out with her boyfriend."  He shuddered.

Clarke gaped at him.  "You, who consistently refuses my help to pay for things like getting your bike fixed, are going to accept money from your sister?"   She could hardly believe it.

"It's not the most comfortable arrangement, but first, I do have some meager savings to blow through to begin with," he acknowledged.  "Then there's the fact that in my mind, I'm using Lincoln's money, not hers, and I don't feel so bad about that," he grinned, even as she rolled her eyes.  Trust him to make this about avoiding Lincoln.  "Makes me like him more, me freeloading off of him from another continent."

"Ha ha," she told him humorlessly.  "But...you'll be alone.  Traveling alone.  In places where shit happens.  Wasn't there just some huge political disturbance in Turkey?  And they've got that crazy guy in charge?"  She could feel her insides beginning to clench uncomfortably at the thought of Bellamy getting caught in a foreign country undergoing a coup or a crackdown.

"Hey, it's okay.  I'm going to be okay," he quickly reassured her, sitting up to take both her hands in his.  She took a breath, to steady her racing heart, and smiled slightly at the always comical sight of her small, pale hands in his large, darker ones.  

"It's not safe for you to vagabond your way through the ancient Mediterranean," she articulated more clearly, once she looked him in the eyes again.  "You'd throw a fit if I was going to do that."

"Yeah, but you can't take care of yourself like I can take care of myself.  You don't know how to cook, you can't sew anything that isn't flesh," he joked, then sobered immediately.  "I'm going to be okay.  I have contacts in Turkey, in Greece and Italy from being a history student for so long.  I know how to navigate in a foreign country.  For the first time, I won't be wrangling anyone else or on anyone else's schedule, so I'll have flexibility as to what I do and when I do it, and I can cancel anything last minute if I don't feel safe."  As he spoke, he casually brushed away a lock of hair that hung down over her eyes, tucking it gently behind her ear.  "And you know my phone works internationally too, so I'll be able to check my email or even get a text or something."

Something about the tenderness of his gesture struck her, but she also picked up immediately on what he wasn't saying.  "Wait, are you..not taking your laptop?"

"No, I'm not.  I want to travel light and not worry about things, so phone, charger, converter, pen, notebook, some clothes, my wallet, my passport, toiletries and that's pretty much it," he rattled off his supplies.  "If I need something else, I'll buy it.  O will put money into my account on the regular and I'll have my one emergency credit card."  He smiled sardonically.  "If I'm going to be poor and unemployed, might as well see all the sights while I have the free time.  And if I'm there for the sights, I don't need to bring stuff."

"You're not a guy into stuff anyway," she admitted, getting a grin out of him.  It had been one of their ongoing arguments, how no matter where their group went or what they did, he wouldn't buy a souvenir.  

Still, as of five minutes ago, she'd been planning on living with him.  She didn't typically deal well with abrupt changes in her plans.

"I can't believe this is the first I'm hearing about this," she accused, pulling her hand from his and glaring at him.

"Well, I might have anticipated your response.  Plus I didn't want to stress you out while you were still trying to find a place to live in Philly, hiring movers, all that," he replied defensively.

"Yeah, springing this on me on moving day is _way_ better," she retorted. The thought of him more or less out of contact was going to drive her crazy, so on impulse, she grabbed for his cellphone, twisting out of his grasp.

"What are you doing?" he asked, probably as annoyed that she grabbed his phone without asking as the fact that she'd figured out his unlock code.  

"Putting Instagram on your phone so that you can take a lot of pictures and I can know you're alive and safe just by checking your feed," she informed him, ignoring his yelp of indignation.  "I don't care that you don't want it, you're going to get it and use it, mister.  Otherwise, I'm going to go nuts, and honestly, so is your sister, so give a thought about the people who love you, okay?  Also, punishment for not telling me earlier, because that was a complete dick move."

When she glanced back at him, she found him staring at her.  "Clarke…"

"Please.  It'll just take photos, which, souvenirs aside, you will be taking anyway.  And it'll prevent me from demanding you email me formally every four hours with 'I'm still alive' updates."  She needed him to agree to this, for her own sanity.

"Every four hours?  Come on, Clarke," Bellamy murmured, though he seemed almost flattered by her worry.  

"It was every three, but I was giving you the benefit of the doubt," she replied as she continued to tap at his phone.  "Now, you just need to keep posting pictures and I'll know you're all right."

He blew out a breath and when she looked up, he wore his resigned expression.  "Just...don't give me a stupid name on there, okay?"

She beamed at him for acquiescing and then spent the next several minutes letting her pizza get cold while Bellamy ate a couple of slices and watched with amusement as she tried to find a free name for him on Instagram that wasn't ridiculous.

"What about 'TheAncientBlake'?" she suggested.  "Since we make fun of you for being an old man trapped in a young man's body and since it's your era of specialty?"

"Acceptable," he mumbled as he chewed on a piece of crust.  "You need to eat something.  You haven't had anything since that granola bar this morning."

"In a minute," she waved off his concern dismissively, still fiddling with his phone and the app. Finally, when it was ready, she showed him how to take a picture, then insisted they take a selfie together for his first post.

Clarke scooted closer to him on the floor and made him take the photo, stretching his arm out so he could capture them both from above.  She rested her head on his shoulder and grinned up at the camera, ignoring the pang of knowing this might be the last time she'd be able to force him to take a selfie with her for a long time.

That this might be the last time he would let her lean into him.

That this might be the end of... _them_.

That's what had happened with Wells, her former best friend.  They were still friends, good friends, even, but he'd transferred to a school in Boston his junior year and stayed there after he graduated.  They hadn't been able to maintain the closeness that they'd once shared, not with so many hundreds of miles between them.  And then Clarke had found Bellamy and the place in her heart that had been Wells' now thoroughly belonged to the dark-haired man beside her.

She didn't want that to happen again.

After showing Bellamy how to caption a photo and badgering him until he posted the picture with the line, "Me and my best friend (sorry Miller!)," Clarke finally turned her attention to her cold pizza.

"What about your apartment and the stuff there?" she wondered, still not quite believing he was going to get on a plane within twenty-four hours and fly halfway across the world.  "If you're leaving tomorrow?"

"Miller and Bryan, O and Lincoln are coming over later.  I don't have too much and it can be all pretty easily stored in Miller's garage, so we're going to pack me up tonight.  If we leave a couple of things, they can come back and grab them while I'm in Turkey, since technically I have until next Saturday to move out."  He grabbed another slice and put it on her plate, even though she wasn't halfway through eating the one in her hand.  That was Bellamy, mother-henning her half the time.

"Sounds like everyone's on board with this idea," she acknowledged glumly.

"Except my paranoid doctor friend, yeah," Bellamy replied, knocking his shoulder into hers.  "But that's why I have a new app and will take a lot of pictures, so she can keep tabs on me like she demands."

"Don't get me wrong, this sounds like a wonderful trip for you.  Perfect, really."  She knew sounding like a wet blanket when everyone else appeared to be happy for him, if not outright pay for him, wasn't going to help her cause.  "You can go full nerd and no one will whine at you about wanting to go shopping or going swimming instead of looking at ruins from three thousand years ago.  I just….that aloneness of it."  She reached for a napkin and shrugged.  "I don't like to think of you alone."

"I can deal with being alone.  I feel like...I've never been alone my whole life, someone else was always the priority."  He gave her a knowing look, admitting, "I don't mean the feeling of being alone, that me against the world feeling.  I mean the feeling of being by myself.  I'm never worried about just myself, you know?  I'm looking forward to it, even.  The only thing that worries me right now is you being alone in a new town."

She blinked, turning to face him.  "I'm not going to be alone.  I'll be in a program, with other doctors, I'll be interacting with patients, unlike you, who is going to be in a foreign country where you don't even speak the predominant language!"

"I'm talking about your difficulties with making friends.  I'm not talking about allies or enemies in class, or people you work together on projects with and then never speak to otherwise," he explained, almost gently, like he was trying to spare her feelings.  That more than anything made her sit up and take notice.  

"You have three friends.  You've got me, who started as your enemy, you've got Raven, who started as the wronged woman to your other woman, and Wells, who your parents basically picked out when you were infants.  The thought of you by yourself in a city you don't know, _eating poorly_ , that worries me way more than me wandering through foreign countries."

Clarke wanted to argue, but instead looked away and bit into her pizza.  He wasn't wrong; making friends had never been one of her skills.  

"I know you have a hard time letting people in, but Finn aside, you're good at figuring out who's a good person.  Just promise me you'll trust yourself a little more and try to make a real friend or two in Philly?"

"Maybe I'll pick a fight with a neighbor and force them to be my friend, like I did with you," she replied, trying to make a joke out of it.

"Pretty sure that's what I did with you, but that's okay, Princess.  It's a tried and true strategy," he approved, wrapping an arm around her shoulders comfortingly.  "Come on, finish your food.  Your mom and the movers will be here before you know it."

Not even two hours later, she found herself standing on the sidewalk, watching as the movers' truck pulled away and trundled down the street, still wondering how she was going to say goodbye to the man that just that morning she thought would be living with her in the near future.  Unfortunately, Abigail Griffin hadn't wasted anytime when she arrived with the moving guys, making sure each room was cleared before moving to the next one. Even if Clarke had wanted to delay, to try to think of an argument against Bellamy's grand tour, there was no way to stop the force of nature that was her mother.

So now, Clarke could hardly believe the moment to say goodbye was here.

Her mother turned to Bellamy and gave him a smile. "You didn't have to help us pack up the truck, but thank you all the same," she told him, offering her hand.

Bellamy shook it politely and inclined his head.  "It was really no problem, D..well, I was about to say Dr. Griffin, but that refers to you both now," he noted with a chuckle.

"I've told you many times to call me Abby anyway," she reminded him.  "Do take care of yourself, Bellamy, and good luck."

"Thank you, Abby," he rumbled, then watched as she gave Clarke a knowing smile and walked over to the car, sliding into the passenger seat.  Fortunately, her mother knew enough to give them a moment alone to say their own farewells.

Clarke turned back to her friend and winced, really unhappy the time had come to separate.  "I don't know what to say.  I don't know that I ever really thought we'd say goodbye," she blurted out honestly.  She hadn't prepared herself emotionally in the slightest and she felt like the ground was giving way under her feet.

He stunned her then, slipping his arms around her and pulling her in for a hug, the first hug he'd ever initiated between them while sober.  "It's just for now, Princess.  I'll be back and unemployed in the States before you know it.  Meanwhile, you'll be doing wonderful and useful things, like saving people's lives."

She let herself enjoy the feeling of being in his arms one last time, relaxing momentarily and inhaling deeply to get all of that Bellamy smell, like clean laundry hung in forest air.  "You getting to enjoy yourself, for real, for once, is a good thing," she told herself as much as him, mumbling into his neck.  

His head dipped and she could feel him press a kiss into her hair.  "I'm going to miss you too," he said, voice gruff.  "We're just saying goodbye for now though. We'll be annoying each other again in no time.  And meanwhile, I'll write to you."

"You hate typing long messages on your phone," she denied, still hugging him tightly.

"As in writing, paper and pen style."

"You're such a Luddite," she complained, but couldn't stop the smile that came to her face or the chuckle that rolled through her body.  

"You love it," he teased, finally taking a step back.  When she looked up at him, she could see how bright his eyes were, so she wasn't surprised that he tried to make a joke immediately thereafter.

"Remember, you're not allowed to dye your hair red again," he warned her playfully.

"And you're not allowed to cut your hair to any length I haven't explicitly authorized," she replied, smiling.  

Bellamy rolled his eyes.  "I remember your 'acceptable zone of hair length' speech," he conceded despite the smile on his face.

"And agreed to. I am better than you are at figuring out what looks good on you."  Clarke spontaneously hugged him again and then glanced at her car.  "I should go, but...photos, remember."

"And you, remember that edible things also come in non-prepared form," he murmured in her ear.  "Please tell me you'll eat more than yogurt and fruit and pre-packaged meals."

"I promise," she whispered, then pushed herself up on her toes to kiss his cheek.  His skin felt warm and smooth under her lips and she wondered briefly when she would be able to do this again.  "Goodbye, Bell."

"Goodbye, Clarke," he answered, blinking quickly as she stepped away from him.

She hurried over to the driver side of her car, opening the door to toss in her bag, and then lifted a hand in a motionless wave.  He mirrored her gesture and watched as she got in, started up the car and pulled away from the curb.

When she glanced in the rearview, he was still there, still watching her drive away.  She forced herself to refocus on the road ahead of her, trying to retain control of her emotions.  But as soon as her mother touched her arm comfortingly, the tears began to fall.

Fortunately, her mother didn't say anything, just let her cry.  After a short bit, she even offered her a tissue silently and Clarke used it gratefully, blowing her nose.  Once her composure was back, she offered her mother a watery smile.  "Thanks.  It's just...a lot."

"I know, honey," Abby agreed, reaching over to brush at her daughter's hair comfortingly.  "Did you want to pull over and switch so I can drive?"

"No.  I just want to get to Philly, get the apartment set up," she answered, doing her best to sound certain.

"We'll get the truck unloaded, but then we're going out to dinner, my treat.  It's been a stressful day.  You deserve a good meal."

"Bell deserves a good meal. You know he helped me pack all day yesterday and today and he's got to pack up his own apartment tonight?"  Clarke shook her head as she changed lanes on the highway to get around a slower moving car.  "When we get to Philly, I'm going to call Frederick's, order dinner for him and his crew.  It's the least I can do."

"That will be nice," Abby agreed.  Clarke heard her mother sit back against her seat.  "I know he wanted to be teaching this year, but I think taking some time to travel will be great for him.  He's spent his whole life taking care of his sister, or the kids in the dorm or the apartment building.  Getting a chance to see all the history he's studied up close must be a dream come true for him."

Clarke nodded and forced her voice to sound even.  "Oh, yeah, he's so excited.  I'm a little jealous actually.  He's going to really enjoy himself."

"I wish you had taken that gap year between college and med school," her mother answered.  "You could have traveled then.  I took a gap year and it hasn't affected my career at all."

"You had me, Mom, which I don't think really qualifies as a gap year.  And deferring med school for a year doesn't really look good when you're competing for a residency unless you spent that year volunteering at an overseas clinic or something.  You wanted me to travel Europe, or lay on a beach and get a tan.  I might not have gotten matched to this surgical program if I had done that," Clarke countered.  "Things are so competitive now, Mom, you know that.  You take your foot off the gas for a second, you get left in the dust."

"I know that, but I can still wish it for you.  And try to get you to promise that when your first vacation comes up, you take a real vacation.  You don't have to lie on the beach somewhere, but just…"  Abby smiled.  "You've made it, honey.  In order to be the best doctor you can be, you need to relax on your downtime."

"I know, and I will," Clarke promised, giving her mother a reassuring smile.  "I promise.  I'm going to find an art supply store and stock up, and I'm going to unwind the way I need to, don't worry."

"Taking care of yourself also means eating well," Abby continued, making Clarke groan.

"Well, now you sound like Bell."

"I always liked him, you know…"

 

* * *

 

 

"Are you sure you don't want to go out to a meal?" Abby asked again.  She stood near the door of the new apartment, pulling her purse onto her shoulder.  

"I'm kind of beat, Mom.  I'm fine with just ordering something."  Clarke sat at her small dining room table, gazing tiredly at the stack of boxes they'd yet to unpack.  While they still had the moving guys, they'd prioritized setting up all the furniture, including her bed and the table, and now, everything else was left for the two women to deal with on their own.

"You've only eaten pizza today.  This place I wanted to try has real meals, locally sourced ingredients and does offer take-out, so I'm going to order some food and bring it back here," her mother replied.  "And honestly, I could use a little walk.  You sure you don't want to come with, see your new neighborhood a little?"

"Tomorrow, I think.  We'll have to get groceries and all that anyway."  Clarke pulled a face.  "I know I'm being a baby-"

"No, you're not.  You're just taking advantage of the fact that your mother is willing to pamper you a little, since my only baby is about to start her residency in a few days.  Sit, relax, I'll be back before you know it," Abby chuckled before heading out the front door.

Clarke gazed around her new, tiny apartment and sighed.  Her kitchen was a postage stamp, the living room barely fit the couch and you had to walk through her bedroom to get to the only bathroom.  But the windows were big and the view of the city and the river beyond were gorgeous, the small balcony provided her with a place to sketch, and the building had both a doorman and a dedicated parking spot for her car.  It was safe, had all the little amenities like a resident's gym room, and even Bellamy had approved of her living there.

_If you can afford to live in a place that's got good security, you do it, Princess._

While his words rang in her ears, her phone buzzed, and she smirked when his picture came up on the screen.

"How'd you know I was thinking about you?" she asked as she slid from her seat and took the three steps needed to walk into the living room.

"Because you were probably wondering if we got the food you sent.  We did," Bellamy answered.  "Thank you, but you didn't need to."

"Whatever.  You helped me even though you needed to be packing your own shit up.  Least I could do."

"Damn right!" came Miller's voice, making her smile.  She could hear Bellamy walk away and close a door, probably going to his bedroom to perch on the windowsill there as he like to do when on the phone.  

"It really was no problem.  And Frederick's is the closest you're going to get to a homecooked meal until you get back."  Clarke took a breath.  "If you're still set on going, of course."

"I know you're worried, but I promise I'll take care of myself.  You'll get lots of pictures of my travels, assuring you that I'm alive and well."

"Actually," she began, half-smiling as she tucked herself into a corner of the couch.  "Unless you're in them, I won't know it's you.  So once a day, make one a selfie?"

He groaned and she could picture his head cocking to one side, the way he did when aggrieved.   "Are you through?  Because I'm not going to agree to one more thing after this, so you're going to have to pick if there's some other rule you're going to try to impose on me.  You get one more, and that's it."

"Daily selfie," she insisted.  "Also, please tell me if you're ever low on funds.  I can Paypal you some money or wire it, even."

"No, no money," he retorted.  "Daily selfie, fine, but I'm not taking your money."

She blew out an exasperated breath, even though she knew he would be obstinate about this.  "In case of an emergency only.  If you really need it.  Please.  You might need money and not be able to reach Octavia."

"Look, I'm not idiot.  If I'm desperate, you know I'd reach out, you don't need my promise," he replied after a long silence.  "But I'm not going to take your money."

"Unless you're desperate, I know."  She leaned back against the couch, watching as the sky started to turn orange with the setting sun.  "Thank you, for agreeing to the selfies."

"It's not actually the worst idea," he admitted.  "Keeps O off my back too."

"See?  I'm not just paranoid."

"You're generally pretty sensible, actually," Bellamy agreed, to her surprise.  "You know, I don't worry about you during a disaster.  You could survive a nuclear apocalypse.  It's the little things that worry me.  You can't cook-"

"I can cook!  I know how to make good scrambled eggs, you said so yourself," she defended her skills.  "And I can make stuff out of a box, like Hamburger Helper."

"Yeah, that.  I'm talking taking raw ingredients and making it into a meal.  Please tell me you're not eating out of a box tonight."

"Mom's picking up some takeout from a nearby restaurant which only uses locally sourced, fresh ingredients, okay?"

"Great.  For one meal.  Maybe you should get one of those box services, where they deliver all the ingredients and the directions at the same time?"

"Honestly, I thought about it," she conceded.  "But three times a week cooking?  That seems really ambitious for me."

He laughed.  "See?  Three times a week shouldn't be 'ambitious'.  It should be minimum."

"Let me get settled into a routine here first and then I'll figure out if it's a good idea, okay?"

"As long as your routine involves trying to make friends, sure."

She chuckled and stretched her legs out on the couch, watching as she wiggled her toes.  "Do you ever feel like we talk in circles sometimes?"

"We neither of us like to give up the point until it's won, that's all," he answered easily.  

Their conversation meandered after that and it was her phone beeping with an incoming text from her mother that made her realize she'd been talking to him for forty minutes.  "Looks like my mom is going to be here in ten with the food."

"Yeah, I'm getting static about helping pack up my own apartment."  But he stopped there and they spent a moment listening to each other breathe.

Finally, he broke the silence.  "Take care of yourself."

"You too," she answered, feeling herself get choked up all over again.

"Hey.  Save that for when I call from Ankara, bleeding out in an alley after being robbed," he tried one of his asinine, completely inappropriate jokes.

But she laughed despite herself, the way he knew she would, and smiled into the phone.  "Bell…"

"See?  It's not so bad."  She could hear him moving on the other end of the line.  "Stay well, Clarke.  Kick some ass, save some lives for me, okay?"

"I will.  Take as many pictures as I would."

"Impossible.  But I'm always up for a challenge."

She knew she would have to say it.  "Okay, get back to packing, I'll get back to unpacking."

"Right.  Goodbye, Clarke."

"Goodbye, Bell."

A few minutes later, her mother found her at the kitchen sink, wiping her face with a towel.  But her attempt to hide her tears and her blotchy complexion didn't fool Abby, who just set down the take-out bag on the table and walked over to hug her daughter.

"I'm excited to start my residency.  I just...I just didn't think I'd have to say goodbye to him," Clarke tried to explain, allowing her mother to comfort her.  "At worst, he'd be a car ride away.  Not...not this.  I wasn't prepared for this."

"It's hard leaving those closest to us," Abby agreed, rubbing her back and then gently beginning to steer her towards the dining table.  "But he's not moving to Europe or Turkey, he's just visiting for a bit.  Yes, it's a little indefinite right now, but, you know, for the first time, he's on his own.  I think everyone should experience that once in their lives."

Clarke slumped into a chair and huffed.  "You mean me, right?  This is my chance to be really on my own, not in the same town as you or all my friends?"

"Maybe a little."  Abby sat in the next chair and clasped Clarke's hand.  "I won't deny that I thought you and Bellamy might end up together.  He's a good person, looking out for others the way you do, so I know you'd have someone who wouldn't take advantage of you.  But mostly, I just saw how well you worked together, how close you'd gotten, and as much as you want your children to grow up to be independent, you also hope they find someone they can really rely on."

"Mom…," Clarke whined.  "It's not like that between us."  It's not like people hadn't mistaken them for a couple before, but it was always easy to laugh off.  For her mother to think the same thing, though, bothered her.  

She hadn't always had the closest relationship with her mother.  She'd been a daddy's girl growing up, but after her father's death her senior year of high school, she and her mother had grown surprisingly close.  It was rare when more than a few days went by without them talking, even though Abby was the Chief of Surgery at Jeannes Memorial and Clarke had been a medical student.  That somehow her mother, of all people, had thought she and Bellamy were going to get together made her feel as if she didn't know her at all.

"Yes, I know that," Abby replied, much to Clarke's relief.  "And it doesn't have to be like that either.  I just think you and Bellamy are actually the kind of friends you never let go of.  It's rare when we meet someone in life who is, in fact, a lifelong friend.  But the first time you separate from them, it's hard."

"Did you have a friend like that?"

"Well, yes, but I did end up married to him.  But that's just me!  I'm not saying that's going to happen to you," Abby assured her quickly as she rubbed her shoulder.  "But you're just as close to Bellamy as I was to your father in high school, and it wasn't easy to go to separate colleges.  But even if we hadn't gotten married, your father and I, well, I know we would have remained close friends."

"I thought you two were already together before that?" Clarke asked, confused.  "You went to your prom together."

"Yes, but as friends.  We spent the night at a friend's lake house, along with about twenty other people, and we slept in sleeping bags on the living room floor with at least six other people.  It was not a romantic night in the slightest," Abby laughed at the memory.  "Good food at the diner the next morning though.  Way better than what we actually ate at the prom."

"Oh.  I just...oh."  Clarke took a breath, then offered her mom a smile.  "I think I'm hungry.  Mind if we eat?"

"Of course not, that's why I bought it!"  Abby accepted the change in subject easily, getting to her feet to pull out the clear-topped to-go containers.  "I got you the southern-fried chicken with homemade mac and cheese and myself the beef with mushroom sauce."

"You got me fried chicken and mac and cheese?" Clarke grinned.  Those were both some of her favorite foods.  

"Do I know my daughter or what?  I figured you could use a little comfort tonight."  She handed over the food, then offered her some plastic utensils with a smile of her own.  "So we don't have to dig out your silverware just yet."

"Thanks, Mom."  Clarke's mouth started watering as soon as she lifted the top of the container and smelled the chicken.  "You're the best."

"I'm just so proud of you, is all."  Abby slipped back into her seat and beamed at her.  "In a few days, you're going to be a full-fledged surgeon.  If I can make your first couple nights here easier on you, I'm going to do it."

"Not everyone's parents would do this with them."

"I know.  Apparently, it's not normal to have a healthy relationship with your daughter," her mother agreed with a laugh.  "They're either too distant or way too involved.  You know, Catherine still makes all her daughter's calls for her?  Karen is almost thirty but Catherine's always the one on the phone with her insurance company, or making appointments for her.  So she doesn't have to worry, apparently, but it's like Karen has no life skills whatsoever!"

Clarke relaxed as her mother told her the whole story of her co-worker's still completely dependent adult child.  It made her feel better to think she didn't need that level of support to be on her own.  Despite all of Bellamy's teasing, she knew how to keep herself fed.  And she could pay her bills, keep a work schedule on her own, even deal with the fact that her best friend would be on a different continent for awhile.

This was the start of her new life.  It was time to stop looking backward and start looking forward.

The fact that this was a sentiment of which Bellamy would heartily approve wasn't lost on her either and she bit into her chicken with a grin.  They might be separated, but they'd clearly made an impression on each other and knowing that, at least in this small way, Bellamy was still with her, made her feel a lot better.

She, in the words of Bellamy Blake, was in fact ready to be badass.

Tomorrow.


	2. Early July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's moved into her new place and Bellamy's flown halfway across the world. Now what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for posting a day late. A world of Real Life Difficulties sprang up this week. Thanks once more to my wonderful beta, Anne, who helps me nudge the story in the right direction, and of course, to the inspiration of this fic, Charlie.

Two days of living in her new apartment with her mother as a guest convinced Clarke that her plan to have Bellamy crash with her had been ridiculous.  The place was so tiny, she and her mother were constantly tripping over each other.  Not to mention, the only place for him to sleep would be the couch, which would probably get uncomfortable quickly.

Of course, when she had picked the place, Bellamy still had hope that he'd find a position in Arkadia.  There hadn't been a need to factor in space for him.  And now, he was in Turkey, spending days at a time in a single museum, according to his Instagram.  She shook her head, a smile coming to her face at the thought, even as she sat at her table, supposedly making a list of the supplies she still needed to buy for her home.

When her mother was still there, they found the closest grocery store, as well as discovered that Clarke didn't live all that far away from an IKEA.  Naturally, they'd gravitated to the store, taking a picture in front of the kitchen supplies that she'd posted to her own feed.

She burst out laughing while in the checkout line when she checked her phone nearly an hour later, showing her mother his comment on her photo.

**TheAncientBlake** Glad you found the closest White People Mecca. How about a grocery store?

Clarke replied with a picture of her middle finger over the ACME bag when they got home, only to get his response while they ate dinner.

**TheAncientBlake** No reusable tote? You're going to lose your guilty liberal street cred…

Despite herself, she chortled at his message, then gave him shit about being up so late over the Hangouts app.  

You're going to fall asleep at the museum

tomorrow if you don't get some sleep.

Doing the Ataturk's Mausoleum tomorrow, actually.  

But...that's modern history. He hasn't been

dead for a thousand plus years.  Does it

really fit in with your aesthetic?

Fuck you too, Clarke.

Have I taught you nothing?  

There's an emoji for that.

I use my words, like a big boy who doesn't

need pictograms to communicate.

Are you doing okay?

Yeah.  Getting used to the city.  You?

The pictures look great, btw.

I'm fine.  Tired though.  Going to sleep.

Night, Clarke.

Good night, Bell.

It was just such a normal interaction for them, she could almost imagine he was in an apartment just across the hall and not on a different continent.

"I take it Bellamy is doing well?" her mother asked as she spooned some more mango salad onto her plate.  They'd splurged on her last dinner in, buying lobster tails which her mother cooked expertly, but then Clarke had violated one of the few dinner rules they had, which was not to check the phone at the dinner table unless it was from the hospital.

"I'm sorry, just...yeah, he's fine," she apologized, quickly turning off the screen and putting her phone face down on the next chair.

Abby just smiled serenely.  "It's okay.  I know with the time difference, getting a chance to actually chat with him will be difficult, especially once you start work."

"Yeah," Clarke agreed, relieved that she hadn't unintentionally insulted her mother.  "Thanks again for coming out here with me for a few days.  And for making dinner."

"Well, the way you use your art to relax and escape, I use cooking, so it was my pleasure."  Reaching for her wine glass, she asked, "Are you nervous for your first day as a resident?"

"A little.  But then I remember they're not really going to let me do anything my first day.  It'll mostly be about listening, and that I can do," Clarke admitted before taking another bite of lobster and letting it practically melt in her mouth.  "This is so good."

"I'm glad you're being realistic about your first year.  It's not like it is on 'Grey's Anatomy'," Abby replied, giving a little shudder.

"I know, Mom, I know."  Abby had made her opinion on most medical shows quite clear.

"And I'm glad you got matched here too.  Philadelphia is obviously a much bigger place than Arkadia, so you'll have a chance to see so many more types of surgical cases.  Even if you do end up in cardio-thoracic surgery, you'll get a much better sense of all the procedures and-"

"Yeah, Mom, that's why I tried to get matched here."  Clarke put down her fork.  "Are you...trying to convince me or you?"

Abby chuckled.  "I'm trying to say, poorly it seems, that I'm glad you're going to be living outside of Arkadia.  It's a wonderful town, the university is great, as is the med school, but it's good to be somewhere else besides where you grew up for awhile, even if you end up back where you started."

"You hope," Clarke replied, but with a smile.  

"Well, yes, it would be nice if after this time, you do come back to Arkadia.  Raise a family there.  That way their grandmother can visit all the time," Abby teased.

"Okay, okay, noted."  Picking her fork back up, Clarke ventured.  "So, now that I won't be in town for our twice weekly dinners, what are you going to do on those nights?"

"Well, I'm not sure.  I thought about maybe signing up for a cooking class, something like Indian food or-"

"Or you could go out with Marcus more than once every few weeks," Clarke suggested lightly.

"Ah...maybe," her mother allowed.  She cleared her throat after taking another sip of her wine.  "I take it you, ah, approve?"

"It's not really for me to approve, is it?  I mean, if you had asked seventeen year-old me, no, she wouldn't have.  But now?"  Clarke shrugged.  She felt absolutely fine about her mother dating, especially someone like Marcus whom they'd known for a long time.  It wasn't like she was on Tinder or Match.com, or anything.  "I guess I've learned that life doesn't stand still, even after terrible things happen."

"I'm not asking permission, but, yes, your approval matters, Clarke," Abby hastily corrected her.  "You're always going to be my daughter, no matter where you live or how old you get.  If you don't like Marcus, then, yes, I want to know."

Clarke shook her head, bemused at her mother's question.  "I like Marcus just fine.  I think you've been moving crazy slow, if I'm being honest.  That's why I suggested you go out with him more often."

"Oh."  Clarke thought her mother actually flushed for a moment, but then Abby offered her a smile.  "Thank you.  It..it's a relief, to know you don't mind."

"Definitely a stronger recommendation than 'don't mind'," Clarke answered around a smile.  "You deserve to be happy with someone, if that's what you want."

"So do you," Abby replied.  "Not that I'm advocating you find yourself a girl- or boy-friend anytime soon.  Your first year of residency can be a shock to the system and relationships started now can just be so….fraught."

Clarke actually giggled at the combination of her mother's concerned expression and her use of the word "fraught."  "Don't worry, Mom.  I'm not looking for anything right now.  I mean it when I say my only focus outside of the patients right now is getting into a    routine that works for me here."  She loaded up her fork with some of the salad and casually returned the subject to her mother's love life.  "I think you should take Marcus to the ballet this fall.  I know I've always been your date for your season tickets, but I think he'd like it instead."

"Is that so?" Abby asked knowingly.  "Any other date night suggestions?"

"Oh, plenty," Clarke grinned.  

 

* * *

  

Seeing her mother off the next morning at the train station wasn't nearly as bad as saying her goodbyes to Bellamy, a fact she attributed to it being her second big goodbye in a week.  She'd already reached extreme emotional heights once, and just like going on a rollercoaster a second time, it wasn't quite the same experience as the first.

Still, a few tears ran down her cheeks as she hugged her mother goodbye and Abby's eyes were watery as well.  

"Let me know if you need anything," she commanded, smoothing down her daughter's still unruly curls.

"Mom.  I've lived on my own for years.  I'm going to be fine."

"Just know you can always reach out, if you need something.  Even if it's just a friendly ear to listen to your troubles.  I've been where you are before…"  She gazed fondly at her daughter.  

"I'm not a martyr, Mom.  You'll definitely hear from me if things go wrong. And you'll hear from me if they don't.  I'm still going to call you and pick up when you call."

"Good.  Just because you're a few hours away doesn't mean you get to lose touch with your mother."

"Not going to happen," Clarke promised.

Afterwards, unwilling to simply go back to her lonely little apartment, she drove back to her neighborhood.  She and her mother had walked around briefly, and of course, located a few necessary stores, but she wanted to see what else was nearby.  

She was thrilled to find an art supply store not five minutes from her place, and after wrangling a spot on the street, hurried inside.  Just the smell of the store made her feel more at home in the city.  Wandering the aisles, she found herself in front of the oil paints, eyeing them with interest.

Clarke had always said she'd get back into oil painting once she was settled in a real job.  The fact was it took real time to paint in oils, but she enjoyed the whole process, from selecting the scene, to picking out the right materials, to mixing the colors.  

Reaching out to touch one of the tubes of paint longingly, she weighed the sensibility of taking on a project as big as an oil painting.  Technically, she had her job, a position of at least several years.  Her mother had encouraged her to go back to her hobby, as a de-stressor, something that was important to her mental health as she joined a notoriously stressful profession.   This would the ideal time to start something.

Of course, before she bought new paints and a canvas or two, she should really know what it is she wanted to paint.  Even as her mind turned to that very question, the answer came to her in a rush.

That one sketch of Bellamy.

It had been the spring before last when Clarke, suddenly beyond over studying for finals, burst into Bellamy's apartment and demanded that he go with her to a national park for a day of hiking.  She'd been desperate to get out in the open air, to be in nature, and to give herself a moment's rest from trying to cram for her exams.  Somehow, despite her nearly manic insistence, he'd talked her down from an impromptu mountain hike to an afternoon in a park.  "Nature Light," he'd called it.

So she'd spent her afternoon under a tree at their local park, stealing the fries from his combo meal of the Five Guys they'd picked up and sketching.  When she noticed his pose, legs folded in his offbeat version of the Lotus position, one elbow leaning on his thigh and his hand buried deep in his hair as he read a book on his lap.  It was such a quintessential "Bellamy" pose she'd immediately begun sketching him.

She'd always liked how that sketch turned out, focusing on the details of him while allowing the background to fade out.  As an expression of how Bellamy could get while reading, it was pretty perfect.  

Because she was thinking of him, Clarke dug into her bag to pull out her phone, checking his Instagram reflexively.  She snorted when she saw his last picture, a stunning view of a beautiful mosque...and the top of his head.

**TheAncientBlake**  At the Kocatepe Mosque, with my daily proof of life photo for the folks at home.

The replies were fairly comical, including Octavia's.

**SpectacularO**   This has to be the worst selfie I've ever seen.  Get it together, bro!

She added a comment of her own too before determinedly beginning to select the right canvas for her new project.   Nearly an hour later, while she stood in line with a basket of paints and two canvases, she checked her phone again to see that her remark had been noticed by Bellamy.

**CTheGriffin** At least we all recognized that disheveled head of hair.  Did you forgot your comb?

**TheAncientBlake**  Says the Queen of Morning Deshabille!

Clarke snorted, saying aloud, "What a nerd," before she realized she hadn't moderated her volume at all.  She looked up to see a mousy-looking girl of maybe sixteen in front of her eyeing her warily and quickly added, "Uh, my friend, that is, who just sent me the nerdiest message.  Using old-fashioned French words is all."

The girl just nodded and turned back to face front, her shoulders stiff.  Clarke felt so bad about the misunderstanding, she impulsively decided to pay for the teen's purchase, earning her a look that clearly told her she was being creepy, on top of her earlier rudeness.  But the girl didn't say no, only beat a hasty retreat as soon as her new brushes were in a bag.

Looking somewhat helplessly at the amused-looking cashier as she put her basket on the counter, she admitted, "I'm...kind of an awkward person."

"Yeah, I got that," he told her wryly, scanning each of the paints and tossing them into a bag easily.  But he wished her good luck on her project, told her that they had a few painting classes coming up that she might want to check out if she needed pointers, and gave her a couple of small plastic palettes for free.

"You've just dropped over two hundred like it was nothing.  Owner would kill me if I wasn't nice to you," he explained with a grin.

Later, on the drive home, Raven gave her a call and Clarke gave her an abbreviated version of the whole debacle.

"Was he cute?" Raven asked immediately.

"Who, the store guy?"

"Yes," Raven answered, exasperated.

"I guess so?" Clarke tried to recall.  With dark chocolate colored hair, sort of wavy, blue eyes, and a kind of lean build, she reasoned that he was reasonably cute.  "Yeah, I'd say so."

"Wow, Clarke.  How into celibacy are you that you don't instantly recognize when someone is cute or not?"

"I am not celibate!"

"Oh yeah?  You wouldn't start anything last year, 'cause it was your 'last year' in Arkadia and now I'm betting you won't start anything in Philly because it's your 'first year'.  Am I right?"

Clarke huffed out her annoyance.  "Do you know how demanding your first year of residency is?"

"Perfect excuse for you.  I'm not mocking your lifestyle, Griffin.  Do what you want.  Just like, admit it.  I just want you to admit it."

"I'm just not in the right place right now to start something...I mean, have you started something already out there?  You just moved in!"

"Yeah.  Totally fucking this one guy."

Clarke blinked, relieved that she was at a stop light.  "What?  Who?"

"Just some guy.  He's got a huge dick, but he's also a huge dick.   If I had to work with him, I'd fucking kill him.  But he's a good lay.  Scratches the itch."

Clarke couldn't help the chuckle that escaped.  "Raven...I...that sounds good, but really, I just got here, I don't even have a routine yet.  I need to feel comfortable about my place before I start trying to hook up with people."

"And when will that be?"

"I don't know, give me more than a week?"

Raven snorted and Clarke could practically hear her rolling her eyes.  "Okay, lack of love life aside, how's the rest of Philly treating you?"

"Pretty good," Clarke answered as she drove forward.  She ended up chatting with Raven for nearly an hour, getting home and sitting in the car in the garage rather than try to keep up with the conversation as she hauled up her new art supplies.  There was just something so comforting about having an old-fashioned rambling talk with her friend, even if they did live on opposite coasts now.

"I'm thinking of inviting myself to visit for Christmas," Raven revealed near the end of the phone call.

"Oh yeah?  You're totally welcome!  My apartment is tiny, but the couch is all yours, babe, you know that," Clarke told her with a grin.

"Wait, you're not going home for Christmas?"

Clarke shook her head, then realized Raven wouldn't be able to see it.  "Probably not.  I doubt I'll have days off I can use around Christmas.  First year residents don't get first pick, you know?  But if you want to visit Arkadia in addition, or instead of, I'm sure my mom would love to host you."

"I don't know…"

"Are you kidding me, Raven?  She thinks the world of you and she loves hosting, cooking, all of that.  You should totally do it.  It's just a quick train ride from Philly too, so you could fly in here, spend a day, go there, and come back to fly home."

"Sounds like a lot more work than I was anticipating."

"Think about it though.  It'd be great to see you again."

"Maybe...if you come with me to Arkadia.  I can't believe that you'd actually spend Christmas in a different city than your mom and the Blakes."

Clarke blew out a breath.  "Well, life doesn't stand still, does it?  Things change."

"Please.  Some things change because we grow up.  But some things change because we're too stubborn about letting them go.  Okay, I gotta run.  Lunch is over.  Talk to you soon, okay?"

"Okay, Raven.  Love you."

"Love you too, babe."

Clarke sat in her car for a few minutes after the call, thinking over what Raven had said.  Was she just being unduly harsh about not going home for Christmas?  It was only a two hour train ride away.  Even if she did have to work one of the days, she could go for a quick day trip on the other.  And it was the middle of summer anyway.  How could she be so sure she wouldn't be able to go home for Christmas at all?

As she gathered her new supplies from the trunk and then made her way up to the apartment, she wondered if she had been thinking about her move to Philly all wrong.  She wasn't cut-off from her friends or her old life.  She wasn't...bereft and isolated.  She was just in a different city.  One that wasn't even that far away from home.

And she wondered at her "plan" to have Bellamy come with her, as if having him by her side was the only way she could have retained some tangible tie to her past.  As she gazed around her apartment and decided the only place she could possibly set up was the dining room, she realized that what she had wanted would have been extremely foolish.  Just to set up an easel with her new canvas, she had to push the dining room table to a wall.  How was another person supposed to live here with her?

Especially Bellamy.  He needed space for his things.  She couldn't even imagine where he'd put his books.  And he'd have gotten sick of sleeping on the couch in about three nights.  He wasn't the tallest guy in the world, but he tended to stretch out when he slept, and her couch was perfect for people of her height, not Bellamy's.  

Maybe it was time to not be so...rigid...in her conception of the world.  Maybe her plan not going exactly right was the wake-up call she needed to understand that building herself a little bubble wasn't a good idea.  Her idea that her life in Philly would be this hyper-focus on her career with just a single friend to keep her company seemed awfully thin, now that she was trying to live it.

She knew what Bellamy would say: that there was nothing wrong with being dedicated to being a good surgeon.  But just like he, and her mother, and Raven, had been trying to tell her, there was something wrong in letting that be the only part of her life.

She just had to make more of an effort.

   

* * *

 

 

When the first of July finally rolled around, Clarke woke up early, ate a real breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, and made her way to University Hospital via public transportation on the route she'd memorized.  She looked over Bellamy's pictures while she rode the subway, sipping at the coffee from home she'd actually put into a travel mug.  Stepping into the hospital that first time as an actual employee, a doctor on her first day, made her feel confident and ready to take on all comers.  She had made it.

Unfortunately, it was almost the best moment of the day.  

Even though it was a Saturday, or maybe because it was a Saturday, the Chief Surgical Resident, Dr. Tyesha Jensen, was in no mood to be leading twelve new surgical residents through their initial orientation.  

"Make no mistake about it.  This is not TV.  You are not going to be operating on hearts and spines on your first day.  You are not going to go over the head of your attending to the Chief of Surgery because you disagree with a course of treatment.  You are not the only reason your patients will live or die.  You are part of a surgical care team that includes senior surgeons, nurses, doctors in other departments including pathology.  You are not a one-person show.  You got here by being shining stars, but now, we've got to see how you work in groups."

"You will be there for rounds.  You will attend the outpatient clinics and perform follow-up surgical care.  You will attend the conferences.  You will evaluate patients for surgery and help senior doctors plan for their treatment.  You will assist - that's assist - in the operating room, perhaps be the operating surgeon on very simple procedures under the watchful eye of a senior surgeon, and you will help us wrangle and teach third and fourth year medical students who come in on rotation.  That's your first year people.  Nothing else."

"You are going to rotate through five main groups this year: general, vascular, pediatric, surgical intensive care and emergency room. You'll get exposed to neurosurgery, ortho, burn unit procedures, among others.  If a group likes you well enough, you may be with them for a few weeks.  As you start each rotation, you will be informed of the schedule."

She split them up into groups after that and Clarke soon found herself walking towards the elevators on her way to the vascular surgery unit along with two others.  

"And here I thought the whole 'you'll be treated like shit' thing was over," drawled a quiet voice from the pretty young woman beside her.  That earned her a glare from Dr. William Hardy, as his white coat proclaimed, a frat bro-dude if she ever saw one, but Clarke gave her a grin which she returned.

"I'm Harper McIntyre," she chirped, offering her hand.  "Yes, Harper.  My mom is a huge fan of Harper Lee, or was, before the late-stage racism reared its ugly head.  Yikes."

Clarke laughed.  "Ouch.  Well, I can't say much.  My name is Clarke Griffin.  After Arthur C. Clarke.  Because my parents are huge nerds."  She made a face.  "When I was a kid, I tried out being called 'Lark', because at least that's a girl's name, right?  Big mistake."  She shrugged.  "But I grew into my name."

"Tell me about it!  The only nickname you can make out of my name is 'Harpy.'  I mean, come on."  Harper rolled her eyes.  "Even as a little kid, I know that wasn't a good option."  She cocked her head.  "'Doctor Griffin.'  Why does that sound familiar?"

Sighing, Clarke acknowledged, "You've probably read a paper or two from my mother, Doctor Abigail Griffin."

"Oh my god, yes!" Harper agreed, pointing a knowing finger at her.  "Wait, if your mom is Abigail Griffin, Chief of Surgery at her own damned teaching hospital, why are you here?"

"Well, first, because of the fact that this is rated as one of the top three surgical residency programs in the country, and not my mother's hospital.  Also, she's a great cardio-thoracic surgeon but I'm not a hundred percent sure I want the same specialty.  This place gives me more options.  And second, we both agreed that we didn't want charges of nepotism to follow me.  My mother didn't write a recommendation or anything either.  I wanted this to be on my own merits and she agreed."  Clarke nodded, knowing that giving that much detail made her sound defensive.  But she was proud of her accomplishment and she wasn't going to hide it.  "I made it here all by myself."

Harper just shook her head.  "No doubt, dude.  Though if I was in your shoes, I'd have totally used nepotism to leverage myself into a program," she confided with a grin.  "Bet it would have been _way_ less work."

"You don't know my mom.  If I had slacked in the slightest, she wouldn't have put me in her program," Clarke revealed, though she smiled at knowing how seriously her mother took her responsibility to train new surgeons.

"Oooh, full on tiger mom or more like Master of the Face of Disappointment?"

"Definitely the second."

"Ugh, it's so powerful, isn't it?  I always knew I was in big trouble when my mom would just gently disapprove of whatever I was doing."

Before Clarke could answer, they were presented to a doctor near the main desk in the vascular unit.  She wasn't much taller than Clarke herself, but the way she carried herself made her seem significantly larger even though she relatively slim.  She gave the group of four new residents a decidedly unimpressed once over before beginning.

"My name is Doctor Baumer.  I'm a third year resident here and for the duration of this rotation, you'll be reporting to me or the Chief Resident, Doctor De Palma.  We are about to start morning rounds, where you will accompany us and take notes as we evaluate the patients and make the proper changes, if necessary, to ongoing treatment plans.  I'll caution you now not to speak unless spoken to and to ask questions, if you have them, outside of the hearing of the patients to prevent you from undermining the confidence of those patients in our surgical team."  She glanced at them all for a moment, eyes lingering on Clarke in a way that made her tense, then turned to stalk down the hall.  "Let's go.  Your learning starts now."

The junior doctors hurried after her and she shared a worried glance with Harper.  Even though she expected to hit the ground running, as it were, and even though she'd seen firsthand how brusque surgeons could be, she hadn't been quite prepared for the level of...disdain that seemed to be emanating from the people she was supposed to learn from.

"Buckle up.  It's going to be a long year," Harper said knowingly.

Clarke couldn't help but agree.

   

* * *

 

 

Four days into her residency and Clarke was already exhausted.   She loved being able to interact with the patients, but sadly, she still found the highlights of her day to be the moments when she could check her phone for news of Bellamy.  Their intercontinental war of snark hadn't abated since she'd started work and honestly, kept her grounded even as the pace of work at the hospital increased.  And, really more than that, were the senior doctors like Dr. Baumer that she had to deal with.  She knew going in that this hospital had a phenomenal but demanding residency for surgeons, but that hadn't prepared her for Dr. Baumer or Dr. De Palma's demeanors in the slightest.

It turned out that Dr. Baumer hadn't been joking about not asking questions in front of patients.  Hardy had asked what had sounded to Clarke a perfectly reasonable question about the choice for an open procedure versus a laproscopic one for a particular patient and found himself reprimanded in the hallway for daring to question Dr. Baumer.

Once they had gotten a chance to talk about the patient's history, as well as family history, it made more sense, but it seemed that Dr. Baumer didn't think much of the actual teaching part of the job.

"I thought it was a good question," Clarke made sure to tell Hardy later that day, while they were going in for a conference.  Being in the same program didn't mean they had to be enemies, even if they would all be competing for the same jobs at the end of their residencies.

"Notice you didn't say anything about it at the time," Hardy sniffed before moving to find himself a free seat in the auditorium.

"What a jerk-off," Harper said, startling Clarke.  She offered her a smile.  "I thought his question had merit too, but damn, if he's going to be a baby about it all, there's no point in trying to be friendly, right?"

"Yeah, I guess,"  Clarke glanced around the room and pointed out a couple of seats towards the middle.  "Want to sit there?"

"Sure!" Harper agreed.

At least she had one thing, making a work friend in Harper.  The young woman had a good disposition and was someone with whom she could exchange horrified or knowing looks with during rounds or conferences.  She also had a bedside manner with the patients that Clarke frankly envied.  She seemed a natural at putting them at ease while they faced the stressful prospect of surgery.  

If there was anyone else Clarke envied, it was Dr. Baumer, if only for her prodigious skills as a surgeon.  She'd assisted twice now while Dr. Baumer performed in the operating room, marveling at both her flawless technique and the way she made it all seem so easy.  If she could just put together Harper's facility with the patients and Baumer's talents, she'd be the perfect surgeon.

"A girl can dream," she murmured to herself as she trudged into her building that evening, stopping to pick out her mail at the boxes in the lobby.  As she turned the key to open the little door, she pondered what she could make quickly upstairs in her apartment.  She'd already forgone any pretense of making food at all at home, with only "heat and eat" meals even being an option.  But four days of only quick meals had severely depleted her reserves and she decided that she'd probably just make a meal out of yogurt and the last banana sitting on her kitchen counter.

But her mood brightened considerably when she pulled out her mail to find a brown envelope from overseas within the stack.  Clarke beamed as she pulled out the letter, looking at Bellamy's familiar handwriting, the blocky print she'd grown so used to, then hastily tucked it all away in her bag so she could hurry upstairs to read it.

As she walked into her apartment, she glanced over at the corner of the dining room that held what would eventually be his picture.  Right now, it was nothing more than a nearly blank canvas, with only the beginnings of the underlying sketch over the middle.  Since she'd started work, she'd found herself mostly too tired after shift to focus on it, but had promised herself that on her day off, she'd give herself a few hours to devote to the project.  Even so, she often glanced at it guiltily, but with Bellamy's letter in hand, she felt only anticipation at being able to get some time in on it tomorrow.

She dumped her bag on the kitchen counter, then kicked off her shoes before grabbing a strawberry yogurt from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer.  Then Clarke fished out Bellamy's letter from her bag and toted it to the couch.  Dinner and a letter from her best friend was a much needed relaxing end to her day.

Once settled comfortably, she opened the envelope and smiled to see three postcards inside, along with a long letter.  The postcards showed pictures of the Mausoleum, the Kocatepe Mosque and somewhere that had to be one of the parks, clearly picked up at the same time probably from a little stand.  She glanced at these perfunctorily, pleased that she had correctly identified the places from his Instagram feed, then eagerly unfolded his letter.

_Dear Clarke,_

_I haven't even landed in Turkey yet, but the urge to write, and write you specifically, overcame me.  I am sorry that I sprung the news of my trip on you at the last minute.  I think before I told you, it was still...ephemeral, a fantasy, something that could be changed.  Telling you about it, even more so than buying the ticket, made the whole enterprise seem real in a way that I wasn't ready to deal with until you had to leave._

_I'll admit that this is very hard for me.  I thought I would be preparing right now to teach some courses for the upcoming semester.  That was the plan.  This is the first time in my adult life where I haven't had a game plan, a map that moves me from where I am to where I want to be.  To say I feel adrift is an understatement, which is probably why this less than planned trip of mine is coming at the perfect time._

_Because I know where I want to be: I want to teach, have a job and a home, and eventually, a family.  I want to have health insurance, and a retirement package (ha!), and worry about the quality of the school district in which I live.  But I won't get that sitting and hoping at my sister's place.  I can apply for what few open positions pop up even from a foreign country and meanwhile see some of the places I've been studying for so long._

_It's a line from a movie, but the words have really hit me.  "Fear profits a man nothing."  I can't worry about defending a life I don't even have.  I can still strive for it, but worrying that it might not materialize right now isn't going to help me.  But the chance to really see the places I've been writing about for so many years, to breathe the air of the Mediterranean world that I think I can teach about, I think that will.  If only in interviews, where I can describe the feeling of actually standing on the Acropolis or in the markets of Ankara._

_For the first time in my life that I can remember, I will only have to look out for myself.  What I do will be for my sake and not the approval of an instructor. Just to learn, for the sake of learning, quite literally is a dream come true.  As soon as I land, I'm going to have to thank Octavia and Lincoln for this opportunity again.  If not for their urging, I wouldn't have done this, but more and more, it seems like not only is this the right thing to do at this point in my life, it seems like the only thing I could have done._

_I always thought that we'd go through the same milestones of life at the same time.  I might be a few years older, but we always seemed to be at the same place in our lives.  Undergrads at the same time, grad students.  We'd get jobs at the same time, probably hit the other hallmarks at the same time - marriages, kids.  I looked forward to arguing about the direction of the PTA with you._

_But now, you've gotten the job you wanted, and I don't have a job at all.  I'm a step behind and who knows how long I will be here?  So I'm going to take my time, enjoy what I never got the chance to do before, and hope that something comes along.  I know it seems strange for me to talk about hope.  That's not my usual speech, which typically talks about striving, hard work, or working at a problem until there's a solution.  But...I don't know.  Maybe I'm tired.  Maybe I'm just grateful that Lincoln and Octavia are willing to fund this.  It's hard to pin down what I'm feeling, except sad that I couldn't do this way I was supposed to - a self-funded vacation, maybe dragging along a friend so I had someone I could lecture along the way._

_I just hope you understand why I had to go.  Your plan for your future worked; mine is still ongoing, but I can't just wait anymore.  I can't stand still, watching as everyone, even you, move forward.  I'm not so good a person that I can do that.  This isn't moving forward exactly, more like laterally, but at least it's movement.  You know that unless I'm reading, I'm no good at sitting still._

_Which isn't to say that I'm planning on being foolhardy.  I'll take all the necessary precautions.  You will get your daily "selfie" and a constant stream of photographs to assure you that I am alive and enjoying myself.  In return, I hope I get confirmation from you once in awhile that you're eating well, sleeping well, exploring your new city, and yes, even making a friend._

_It's hard to believe but I think - I know - I will miss you more than I will miss my sister.  All the years she and I spent growing apart were the years that you and I spent growing together.  It seems strange that I won't be able to see you everyday.  And I worry that you won't take care of yourself properly.  I think we're both guilty of putting ourselves last most of the time and without me there to_ _nag_ _you, I worry about your health._

_Yes, I know.  Pot.  Kettle.  Black._

_Which is why I'm going to nag you online and in letters, and I'm sure you'll do the same for me.  I don't care how many miles are between us, we won't stop trying to influence the other.  I thought this would be fair warning, but if the texts I already have from you are any indication, you're already planning to do the same for me._

_Take care of yourself and, just as important, try to enjoy yourself too.  There's more to life than just working._

_Yours,_

_Bellamy_

_P.S.  Yogurt is not dinner._

   

Clarke glanced down at her yogurt in her free hand and pulled a face.  "God, I'm so predictable."  But really, what else could she expect from him?  If anyone knew her, it was Bellamy.  And with that in mind, she pulled out her laptop and began writing him an email in response.

_Dear Bellamy..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all comments, questions, concerns, etc. are welcomed!


	3. Mid-July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke responds with an email and tries to get into the rhythm of her new life. Fortunately, she has a new friend to help her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in this chapter, as well as its shortness. It's been a tough week for me, personally, but here it is, the next chapter. Thanks once more to Anne, my lovely beta.

_ Dear Bellamy, _

 

_ The best part of my day, every day, so far, is checking your Instagram.  I open with this really, really sad fact because I want you to know how much your photos mean to me.  I've had friends before who moved away, as you know, and I honestly worried that maybe you and I would drift apart the way I did with Wells.  But between the Internet, and now your handwritten letter, I think that our friendship will survive this separation, and any future separation besides.  There's something about nagging each other despite the thousands of miles between us that tells me we're going to make it. _

_ I'm trying to eat well….or, well, that's a lie.  I mean to eat well, but honestly, I don't have the skills to whip up quick, healthy meals.  And I certainly don't have the patience to cook a whole bunch of things on a day off to eat throughout the rest of the week.  At least I have a big selection of quick heating meals at the store to buy, but honestly, food is really the least of my concerns.  I'm so tired by the end of the day, I'll pretty much eat anything that's ready to go so I can get to sleep that much faster. _

_ Also yogurt is totally a dinner. _

_ I've gotten a rough sense of what your life is like right now through your pictures, so it's only fair that you get a sense of what mine is like.  Being a first year surgical resident is never really fun, but right now, I'm deep into what they called 'scut work'.  I talk to patients both pre and post-op, I examine incisions to see if they're healing correctly and take care of the results if they're not.  I consult lab results or suggest tests based on what the patients are telling me.  I've been in a couple of surgeries so far, but mostly as an observer.  I swear, I did more as an intern at Jeannes than I'm doing right now.  Of course, I'm sure it'll pick up.  Maybe the senior docs are just trying to get a feel for us.  I just….feel like a glorified medical student right now. _

_ But at least I have a routine down.  Wake up, grab a granola bar, stop at Starbucks for coffee, get to work, work for twelve to sixteen hours, grab something from the cafeteria at some point, then go home, eat whatever is available, shower, sleep.  It seems anything resembling life is put on hold for my days off. _

_ Well, not everything.  I have made a friend!  Her name is Harper and yes, I suppose it's meant to be that I've managed to find another friend with another odd first name.  She's in the program with me, first year like me.  We haven't had much time to talk, since it's just the first week and I think we're all still just trying to find our feet.  But I'm hoping, if the schedule allows, to have lunch with her soon.  Find out more than why she's named Harper and all that. _

_ But still, it seems like something isn't quite right yet.  Like I'm living someone else's life right now and any moment, I'll wake up or find myself back in Arkadia.  It's kind of like when you get new shoes.  I'm still breaking in this life and so far, the fit isn't quite comfortable.  I'm hoping it'll get there soon. _

_ Anyway, tomorrow is my day off.  I know that I should and probably will go the store, pick up more heat and eats.  But tomorrow's real plan is to work on a painting.  Yes, a real painting.  Of course, I'm just in the sketch stage, but just like I promised you and Mom, I am going to do things that relax me and I'm starting by returning to oil painting.  I found the greatest art store and even though I basically made an ass of myself there, I think I found the place I'm going to waste some time at a few times a month. _

_ Of course, it's strange to be starting a project without your input.  Or rather, your instant critique on my subject matter or how messy I'm going to be.  I've always been amazed at how your books will be shelved and stacked every which way, but you always knew where each volume was.  I definitely work in the moment with my art, picking up and putting down paints, brushes, whatever in any place handy and then promptly losing track of them.  So, knowing I am that way, I've taken over the whole dining room for this.  I'm mostly eating in the kitchen and the living room anyway, so what's the point? _

_ I'm not telling you the subject matter though.  I think this is something where I just want to show you the final product.  Call it...vengeance, for leaving me here in the U.S. while you travel to distant lands and see everything you've always wanted to see. ;-) _

_ But more seriously, if you ever go again, the way you're meant to go - the vacation you pay for - I'd be happy to be the friend you drag along to lecture at, as long as you let me to go the beach one day.  I always liked hearing you discuss history, even if Miller and Octavia complained about it.  I can't help but imagine how much you'd love Philadelphia because of it.  I know it's not exactly your era of expertise, but as one of the older cities in the country, it's full of history I know you'd love to see.  I'm planning on going to see the Liberty Bell soon, as well as visit the Constitution Center, but if you're interested, I could wait until you're back home.   _

_ I think it goes without saying that I miss you.  It's hard to believe it's been more than a week since I've seen you in person.  I think this is the first time in years that's happened.  I don't like it, to be honest.  As much fun as you're having, I want you to come home sooner rather than later.  Of course, that's my selfishness talking and you're free to disregard it, but know that you are missed and you will be welcomed back with open arms. _

  
  


_ Love, _

_ Clarke _

 

* * *

  
  


After a long morning over a week later, Clarke shuffled into the cafeteria at the hospital and grabbed a sandwich from the premade case and a bottle of juice.  She went through the checkout line in a daze and folded herself into the first seat at an empty table as she pulled her phone from her pocket to check her messages.

Although she had a text from her mother and a couple of emails waiting for her, she went to Instagram first, to check on Bellamy.  There were two new pictures since she checked before the start of her shift.  He'd gone out to the Catalhoyuk excavation, regarded as perhaps one of the oldest cities in the world and his pictures lately were just flashes of the ongoing research there, like his first picture, which seemed to be a faint wall painting.

But his second picture was his daily selfie, except he'd turned the phone to capture a bit of the sunset behind him, throwing most of his face in shadow.  She shook her head, a small smile coming to her lips, as she wondered if he realized how poor a photographer he was.  So she left a comment to let him know.

 

**CTheGriffin**   You make me feel like a grandmother, but seriously, let's see that pretty face of yours!  Stop hiding in shadows, B!

 

She smirked at her phone, then jumped as a voice interrupted her.

"Mind if I join you?"

Clarke blinked up at Harper, then smiled sheepishly and waved to the empty table.  "Sure."

Harper flopped into a seat, setting down her lunch tray and a bottle of iced tea.  "Free free to help yourself to the fries," she invited before picking up her burger.

"Thanks," Clarke responded, deliberately putting away her phone and giving the other doctor a smile.  It was time to interact with a friendly person in real life.  "Do you usually get a burger for lunch?"

"Anything protein heavy.  Protein helps you think and I also try to eat my heaviest meal during the day so that I'm not going to sleep with a belly full of calories," Harper explained with a grin of her own.  "I'm totally that person who just conks out at the end of the day, you know?  And I'm trying not to gain a shit-ton of weight so…"  She shrugged.

"Makes sense.  I haven't even bothered to think that far ahead," Clarke admitted, wrinkling her nose at her own lack of planning.  "God, my friend Bell would kill me to see what I eat day in and day out."

"Is that who you're talking with on your phone all the time?" Harper wondered, motioning to the pocket where Clarke's cell rested.

Clarke flushed and nodded.  "Well, messaging, really.  He's in Turkey right now, traveling, looking at ancient sites, and I'm always checking his Instagram to make sure he's okay."

"A boy named Belle?"

"Oh, Bell as in Bellamy, which is, now that I think about it, also kind of a girl's name?" Clarke acknowledged, then chuckled.  "It's a family name, they have some French lineage is all."

"Cool.  He can join our club of uniquely named people," Harper replied before taking a big bite of her burger, then sighing happily.  "I love grease," she mumbled around a mouthful of food.  Clarke laughed and bit into her own sandwich and they ate companionably for a couple of minutes.

"So, how are you liking Philly?  Get to do anything fun yet?"  Harper asked as she finished demolishing her burger.

"It's okay so far.  I haven't really done anything though, not yet.  Was thinking about seeing the Liberty Bell soon.  What about you?"

"Oh, I'm from here.  I've done it all.  Liberty Bell is cool, Independence Hall.  You should  _ definitely _ hit Ben Franklin's house, it is its own museum.  Oh, the portrait gallery just across the way."  Harper giggled.  "It's all these old portraits from the Revolutionary War period and I went there with my friends, Monty and Jasper, and we kept making fun of the pictures and cracking up.  One of the security guards ended up trailing us through the place, probably worried we were high."  She shook her head.  "I'm pretty sure only Jasper was, but we weren't going to do anything.  Anyway, the historical stuff is only the start of Philly."

Clarke opened her juice and sat back in her seat, smiling to hear someone else talk about the crazy time with their friends.  She missed making memories like that.  "Oh yeah?  What do you recommend?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, if you're going to live here, you gotta know that Philadelphians are extra about two things: sports and food.  Eagles, that's football, their top dog in these parts, followed by the Phillies, that's baseball.  Then Flyers, Sixers, hockey and basketball.  So if you're going to be here, you've got to get yourself down to a game of something.  We tailgate fucking  _ anything _ , even regular nothing games, but it's a lot of fun in the summer.  Oh, Union tailgating is the best, in my opinion.  It's right on the river so it's really nice.  The Union is-"

"Soccer.  Yeah.  I'm a Chicago Fire fan, from my dad.  He was a native.  I could definitely be talked into a soccer game," Clarke interjected.

"We should totally pick a day when we're both off and go and tailgate down at the U then," Harper invited.  "My friend, Monroe, she's actually in the Sons of Bens, the supporters' group, but we can get regular tickets if you don't feel like standing the whole game." 

The two spent some time chatting about different things to do in the city and Clarke found that Harper seemed to have a friend or an acquaintance involved in most of the interesting activities to do.  

Monty and Jasper seemed to be both foodies and beer snobs, so anything food and drink related went to them.  Clarke admitted that the Franklin Fountain, a old time ice shop sounded phenomenal, but decided to reserve going to the Revolutionary-era restaurant, the City Tavern, until Bellamy came to visit.

Monroe was her sports-friend.  She had season tickets to both the Flyers and the Union, and otherwise worked as a personal trainer and bartender at a local pub near where they grew up.  

Then there were the two guys named John.  Murphy was a nurse, though he'd moved across the country the year before, following some girl to California, and Mbege worked as a police officer in one of the suburbs.  The Johns - pun intended - were the dudes in their groups who always seemed to have a handle on underground clubs, vaguely legal parties and where to find "discounted" materials.  

"They're actually our…'handle it' guys, you know what I mean?  You've got a situation?  They'll handle it."  Harper shook her head slightly.  "Helped me out big time when I broke up with this ex of mine a few years ago.  Ass wouldn't let me back into our apartment, changed the locks even, and I couldn't get my stuff.  So the Johns handled it.  We went there, they opened the door, we got my stuff, stole all of his household supplies - laundry stuff, toilet paper, his broom, even the lightbulbs from his lamps, literally, everything - and then locked the door behind us on the way out."

"Oh my god," Clarke gaped.  "That's...insane.  And kind of awesome."

"Yeah."  Harper rolled her eyes at the memory.  "They're both kind of jerks, Murphy especially, but deep down, they're good guys."  She shook her head after taking a sip of tea.  "Mbege is still trying to get him to move back.  It's like there's this hole in our group right now without him.  Literally no one thought we'd miss him so much."

Clarke nodded understandingly.  "I know what you mean.  My friends have all scattered, not just the one, and it's….awkward, to say the least." 

Harper gave her such a look of pity that Clarke immediately straightened, so as not to seem so pathetic.  "But I'm doing okay."

"I think...I want to adopt you into our group," Harper informed her.  "Sounds like you could use a ready-made pack of friends and we could use the distraction from Murphy's continued absence.  You should come out with us Saturday night.  We're just going to be hanging out in Monroe's bar, probably half-watching a game."

"Um...maybe?"  Clarke shrugged.  "I'm so wiped out after a shift usually…"

"It's good bar food, the drinks aren't that expensive and we'll pop you in a cab after an hour if you don't like it."  Harper grinned at her.  "I think I'm not going to take no for an answer."

Clarke huffed.  "Have you always been this pushy?"

"Noooo, no no.  I was….practically meek not all that long ago," Harper revealed with another laugh, sitting back in her chair.  "But I got into a car accident about a year ago.  Bad.  I escaped without too many injuries, nothing major, but I was literally inches away from something piercing my head.  It's so cliche, but it was a real wake-up call for me.  Life is short, yeah, but...you don't get anything in this life without striving for it, reaching for it, asking for it, really.  So I stopped hoping the things I wanted to happen would happen and started really...making them happen."

"Wow."  Clarke didn't know what else to say to this matter-of-fact recitation of Harper's new life credo.  It resonated with her in a way she couldn't quite describe either, which must have been apparent from her face because Harper grinned at her again.

"Yeah.  Which isn't to say it's all working.  I haven't won the lottery yet.  But I got into this program, which I wouldn't have even thought to apply for before.  And I got the boyfriend I'd been mooning over for years.  So, it's working out pretty well.  Just wish it hadn't taken a life-threatening incident to wake me the fuck up."  

Clarke blew out a breath, shaking her head in wonder.  "It's awesome that you got there though.  Think how many people don't get there at all."  She offered a weak smile.  "I think a lot of people would describe me as bossy, more often than not.  But I can be...I don't know...kind of passive, I guess, when it comes to my own happiness.  Not about goals, like you said, getting into the program.  I've  _ never  _ been passive about that.  But, like..you know, being honest with someone in a relationship, saying I need this to be happy, yeah...that kind of thing.  So if you can, that's awesome."

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying," Harper agreed.  "Like, it's so easy to just...hope things get better, especially with other people.  But not only does doing or saying something get you out of that rut, it answers the question.  Is this going to be a part of my life or not?"

"Right."

"So that's why you're going to come to the bar with us, right?  Make a few friends, maybe get out of your own personal little rut?" she suggested, waving a hand demonstrably.

It did sound good to Clarke, the opportunity to interact with people not over a screen.  And she was getting tired of her post-shift nothing.  If Bellamy or any of her friends had been local, she was sure she'd invite them over for a beer or something after work anyway, so this really wasn't so different.

"Okay, I'm in," she decided with a short nod and whipped out her phone.  "Where's the bar, I'll put it in my calendar."

Harper gave a delighted chuckle and they soon exchanged contact information.  It turned out that Harper lived in the North East, which she described as having a more suburban feel.  Monroe's bar, Blinkie's, was their local dive and she talked up their wings as they threw away their trash and walked back towards vascular.

"Okay, so I have to ask, because I'm nosy," Harper mentioned as they approached the main desk.  "Are you feeling adventurous enough to be, like, set up?  I mean, assuming that you're looking.  I mean, I don't want to assume who you might be looking for either!"  For the first time since they'd met, Harper appeared a bit flustered.

But Clarke was charmed, if only because she made a sincere effort to not offend.  "I'm bi, if that's what you're kind of asking, but I'm also really not looking right now.  Even though you're right, I should get out a bit more, I think I need to have a better handle on this residency and living here before I look for someone, you know.  That way."

Harper nodded.  "Gotcha.  Just...wanted to check."

"I appreciate it.  I'm honestly really crap at meeting new people.  I think most people meet me because they're a patient or because I'm arguing with them about a patient's care," Clarke answered, though she still smiled.  Proudly, even.  There was nothing wrong with fighting for her patients.

"Well, if you ever want to step back into the dating world, let me know.  I know tons of people around here, obviously."

Clarke chuckled and was about to reply when they were interrupted by the steely voice of Baumer.

"There was a train derailment on one of the SEPTA lines," she announced.  "Some critical injuries are coming in but hundreds are going to need to be evaluated, with about a third coming here."  The way she announced this grim news made Clarke feel like she was being chastised for talking about anything that wasn't work.  "Griffin, you and I are being pulled into emergency, to help with triage and pull critical patients into surgery immediately.  McIntyre, you're going to let the patients scheduled for this afternoon know they've been bumped to free up some operating rooms and to keep tabs on their conditions."

She scurried after Baumer and found herself in an operating room not twenty minutes later, scrubbing up to assist on a femoral artery injury after one unfortunate victim got a piece of metal impaled through his leg.  Baumer was terse as they prepped, noting that De Palma should be scrubbing in as soon as he was done with his current surgery, but nonetheless running through the whole procedure with Clarke to make sure she understood all the steps they would take if he didn't arrive.

In the end, De Palma made what Clarke would describe as a cameo appearance only, stopping in to check Baumer's work and pronounce that she had the surgery, "Well in hand."  It was weak praise for what Clarke thought was truly exceptional skill.  Baumer worked efficiently and neatly, making the entire operation look easy.  To her surprise, though, she allowed Clarke to do more than observe and close up at the end.  For the first time in her residency, she felt like she actually got some great experience at vascular surgery. And not the least was the opportunity to watch someone like Baumer work up close.

She certainly didn't expect Baumer's compliments afterwards either.

"You did well in there," Baumer noted as she pulled off the surgical dressing gown to toss in the bin for washing.  "I can see why you were selected for the program."

"Thank you," Clarke replied, nearly breathless in surprise as she peeled off her gloves and pulled off her surgical mask.  

"Patients seem to like you too."

Clarke shrugged.  "I guess so.  They're mostly just looking for reassurance and understanding, right?"

Baumer hummed in response, her interest in that conversation apparently over.  "I'm going to check on the status of the triage.  I'll see you back in the ER," she responded before striding out of the room.

Still, making a doctor of Baumer's talent take notice gave Clarke a giddy sort of rush, one that buoyed her through the rest of the busy day.  She ended up staying way past her shift-end, finally shuffling home close to midnight with the pleased feeling of knowing she'd been useful that day.  

On the ride home, she checked her phone to see that Bellamy had only posted one more picture, that of a cluster of old, earthen buildings.  But he'd also replied to her comment, prompting her to snort.

 

**TheAncientBlake**   I don't take orders from you.  Most of the time.

 

She decided to send him a quick message, even though he'd either still be asleep or just waking up.  

 

You're a riot.  I had a good day

today though, so you're forgiven

your terrible photography skills.

 

She wanted to write more about her day, about what had happened, but paused for a long moment before putting away her phone.  In the end, it seemed like her day could be reduced to a couple of sentences.   _ Made plans to go to a bar with Harper.  Got complimented by a good doctor.   _ Hardly the kind of update Bellamy needed to see first thing in the morning. 

And honestly, given everything he'd written about in his last letter, about not being able to sit around and watch while she moved forward with her life, Clarke thought it might almost be cruel.  Like telling him,  _ Look at me!  Doing well doing that thing I planned to do for my whole adult life!  Sucks about your situation, though!   _ She just didn't want to rub it in his face.

With that in mind, she almost didn't stop by her mailbox, but at the last minuted decided to check to see if anything important had come in.  When the international envelope tumbled out of the box, she beamed.  Even if she felt hesitant to share the highs of her new life with him, she could still enjoy his writing about his travels.  And since Bellamy wrote the way he spoke, she felt like she was talking with him when she read his letters.

She could barely wait to get to her apartment to open it up and debated with herself the wisdom of reading it in the elevator.  But, she took a breath, to keep herself from tearing into the envelope immediately, deciding it would be a lot more comfortable to read it in her home.  Knowing herself, she'd get so immersed in it, she'd miss the stop on her floor and end up back in the lobby.

But soon enough, she was in her front door, dropping her bags by the kitchen counter.  She kicked off her shoes and rushed over to the couch to tuck herself into a corner, her fingers all the while tearing into the edge of the envelope's sealed flap in an effort to get to the pages folded inside, smiling when she could finally read the letter.

  
  


_ Dear Clarke, _

 

_ I know what you mean, living a life that doesn't quite seem to be yours yet.  I certainly never imagined myself waking up in a hostel in Turkey everyday, and yet, this is my life right now.  It's hard to believe most days, but then I get caught up in the past and before I know it, I'm exhausted and ready to crawl into bed. _

_ I've been thinking a lot about why I have always been so drawn to history and mythology.  I think it's because I know how those stories end.  And if I look hard enough, I can see why they had to end as they did.  How one decision led to a outcome, how that influenced the next decision and the next outcome.  History is the Great Known, whereas so much of my life, even now, has been the Great Unknown.  I may not be worried about where my next meal is coming from or whether Octavia will have a roof over her head, but the future is still so unknown to me.  It's an uncertainty I've always had in my life and being a historian, I think, helps me deal with that. _

_ I do try to ignore that dread of the future though and instead focus on what my life is like today.  There may be a time when I miss my life right now, a life without a schedule, without anyone depending on me.  But I can't help but feel as much freedom as I have now, I want the comfortable constraint of a conventional life.  I want to worry about my home and my job and my sister and you.  This life feels rootless and ultimately like it belongs to someone else.  I try to enjoy it for what it is - the interstitial moment in my life.  But I felt more like myself in Arkadia, "parenting" all "our kids" than I do here.   _

_ I feel like I don't have an anchor and I'm just drifting even if I have all the places I want to see mapped. _

_ So much for not worrying about the future.  So much for trying to just learn for learning's sake.  But I suppose this is who I am.   _

_ I know you've seen from my Instagram that I went out to Catalhoyuk.  To remind you, it's the ancient city on the Anatolian plateau which is the earliest known settlement we've ever found.  Nine thousand years ago, people came together and made a city, with homes and businesses and streets.  And even though their buildings don't look like ours, I couldn't help but feel like I was touching a piece of myself out here.   _

_ I don't mean like a past life experience.  I mean the idea that as far removed in space, time and technology as we are from the people who called this home, we are still the same as they were.  They wanted homes, wanted to protect their families, want to make a living.  These are the same things we still want today.  That I still want today. _

_ And it's beautiful out here in a way I just can't describe.  I wish I had your artistic skills, because the pictures I've taken don't do this place justice.  It isn't just way the light streaks across the horizon in reds and oranges. There's a feeling here, a smell even, a taste in the wind that I know you'd be able to capture.  Instead, I just find myself sitting to the side at the end of the day, marveling at the sunset that someone else probably marveled at nine millennia ago.  For all our progress, I don't think anything stops a person or tugs at their soul the way nature does.  And only artists have any hope at all of really capturing that.  The rest of us just have to witness and let it touch us and carry that knowledge within us.  We can't share it with others the way artists can.   _

_ But I really wish I could.  I wish you could see this, could feel this.   _

_ I wish you were here. _

_ The most banal of sentiments, I know, but so very true. _

 

_ Yours, _

_ Bellamy _

 

Clarke wiped away some of the tears that had fallen on her cheeks.  At some point, she'd begun crying and hadn't even realized it.  She hastily set down the letter, to make sure she didn't drip onto his carefully written words and groped for some tissues on her small coffee table.  If you held a gun to her head, she couldn't have articulated  _ why  _ she was crying, only that she felt keenly what he seemed to feel.  

She made herself take a breath and decided to get ready for bed.  But his words seemed to follow her into the bedroom and the shower and as soon as she was in her pajamas, she went back to the couch to stretch out under the throw and reread the missive.  Her fingers traced his careful lettering as she took in his words again and again, her eyes growing misty once more until she couldn't fight sleep any longer.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, etc. are all welcome.


	4. End of July and August

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke gets out of the house for something that isn't work or food. And life goes on in her new city, with some unexpected results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Anne, my wonderful beta! Sorry about the delay on this chapter - long story short, my dog is having some issues. He's about to have his third surgery in three weeks tomorrow, so things have been crazy.

_ Bell, _

 

_    Just come home.  I'll buy you a ticket and you can be here in a day or two.  We'll figure something out.  You sound so lonely and miserable and I can't stand to see you like this. _

  
  


Clarke sat back and frowned at the words she'd written on the screen.  She'd been stewing over Bellamy's letter all day and as soon as she got home from work, she started typing out a reply.  But when she read her first sentences, she couldn't help the feeling that she was talking more about herself than Bellamy.  

Unfolding his last letter carefully, she gazed at the words to confirm that he hadn't actually said anything about being miserable.  Just that he felt "rootless."  And that he wished she was there with him, but not that he was actually lonely.  

"I'm the one who's lonely," she announced to her empty apartment.  Which is why she was going to Blinkie's or Binkie's or whatever the hell the name of that bar was this weekend to meet Harper's friends.

With a disgusted noise at herself, she got to her feet and walked to the kitchen to pull out one of the salad kits she'd picked up over the weekend.  As she mixed up the contents of the bags, she thought over what she was trying to say to him.  When she eventually sat back down, she erased everything she'd typed before and started over.

  
  


_ Dear Bellamy, _

 

_    I know some people relish the chance to live a different life for awhile.  They dream about or actually run away from home and their responsibilities to live a life of freedom.  But I don't think that either of us want that kind of life.  If we did, we wouldn't have chosen professions of service.  So I understand what you're going through.  We can take a vacation, but the prospect of living a life without a tether would seem daunting to us. _

_    But you have a tether.  You've got us.  You have Octavia back in Arkadia.  I know your relationship is difficult, what with your weird parent/brother role in her life, but she's still there for you.  You've got Miller and Bryan and everyone else back there too. _

_    And you've got me.  No matter where you go or what you're doing, whether employed or not, you're always going to have me.  You don't go through what we went through together these past few years and then just...drift apart.  We know each other in ways that I doubt we could even explain.   _

_    I guess what I'm saying is that you have roots.  That your current vagabond lifestyle doesn't cut those ties.  You'll always have a home with all of us.  You'll always have people.  You'll always be part of our group. _

_    That's your Great Known.  You are Bellamy Blake and you are loved and you have a home. _

_    In the meantime, as much as I wish I was with you there, I'm learning a lot here.  Got my first real chance to show I might make a damned good surgeon one day and it went well.  I'm starting to get into that routine that you know I like, though it changed  a bit recently.  I stopped going to Starbucks right before work and started going to a local place, a local chain really, called Wawa.  It means "goose" in the language of one of the indigenous tribes in this area of Pennsylvania, but the stores are pretty awesome.  They're convenience stores, but really excellent ones.  They have good coffee, good made-to-order food even.  Harper told me about them, says that they're a Philly staple. _

_    Anyway, that's now a part of my routine, along with trying to eat a little better at home.  I also have made some headway on my painting.  I think I'm just about done with the sketch and soon will be ready to begin mixing paints and adding them to the canvas.  Unfortunately, because of my schedule this week, I probably won't get a chance to do that for almost five days, but I'm still looking forward to it. _

_    And as much as you might appreciate my artistic skills at rendering the pictures of your beloved sites, you might find yourself annoyed by how often I want to lay on a beach or look at souvenirs.   I say if you're going to amble your way through the Ancient Near East, you might not want a medical resident looking for a vacation by your side. _

_    Remember to take care of yourself out there and that includes eating at least three meals a day.  You can harass me all you want, but you're just as bad about taking care of yourself. _

 

_ Love,  _

_ Clarke _

  
  


When she woke up in the morning, she had a message from Bellamy waited for her.

 

You're killing me, Princess.

 

Me?  What'd I do?

 

To her surprise, she saw the telltale three dots that indicated he was writing a response. She sat right up in bed, leaning back against the headboard as she waited, so surprised to actually be online at the same time as him.

 

Your sentimental email.  Didn't know

you had it in you.

 

You didn't know I was sentimental?

 

I didn't know you were sentimental about

me.

 

Please, you're so full of it.  You know I am.

 

You've never put it in writing before.

 

Because you hate texting.

And all other forms of convenient

communication apparently.

 

You know we're having this 

conversation over chat, right?

 

You know it's an exception for you.

 

True.

I'm flying out in an hour to Greece.

 

All done with Turkey?

 

There's a bit more to see, but I want to get

to Greece sooner rather than later.

 

Sounds good.  

Let me know when you land safely?

 

Always.

 

No skipping the daily selfie either.

 

Bleh. Isn't this proof of life?  
  


No.  Someone else could be rude

to me over chat.

 

You want a picture of me at the airport?  
  


 

You're the one who wanted to travel the world.

Daily selfies are the cost.

 

Are you through?

 

Not until I get your selfie.

  
  


What eventually came through, over the chat and not on Instagram, was the picture of Bellamy she'd requested, holding up his middle finger to the camera.  His hair was starting to look a little shaggy and she resisted the urge to immediately demand he get it trimmed to the length she preferred.  She even resisted the urge to chide him over the gesture, since it'd made her chuckle.

 

Better put one on Instagram. Otherwise Octavia 

will be mad you skipped your daily selfie.

 

Ugh.

 

We like looking at you.  You're so pretty.

But just for being a good sport, I'll send you 

a selfie too.

 

She knew the compliment would make him blush and regretted that she wouldn't be able to see it.  But she focused on taking a decent selfie, even if she still had some bedhead going and she wasn't yet out of her Wonder Woman pajamas.  Once she got a picture she liked, her own middle finger extended in return, she sent it off with a smirk and finally pulled herself from her bed.  Her phone dinged while brushing her teeth and she grinned at his response.

 

Classy as always.  That's my girl.

Or woman.

 

I'm my own woman, thank you very much.

 

You're literally wearing the pajamas I got you.

 

For Secret Santa!

But they are super comfy, thanks again!

 

They're starting to board the plane.  Gotta go!

 

Have a safe flight!

  
  


As she rinsed out her mouth, Clarke felt a great swell of relief and comfort to have had one of her typical conversations with her best friend.  Believing and knowing that the time and distance that separated them wouldn't break their bond were two different things and now she felt confident that she had been right.

They were the same as they ever were and always would be.

 

* * *

 

Clarke took a breath and pulled on the door handle to let herself into the bar.  She'd taken a Lyft over, since she was going to be drinking, but now she felt a twinge of regret that she wouldn't be able to just hop in her car if she wanted to leave.  Still, she was here now and there was no real reason not to go inside.  With a glance at her outfit, a suitably casual pair of jeans and an old t-shirt from Disney World with a picture of Epcot on it, she slipped into the bar and peered around to see if she could spot Harper.

"Clarke!" came the call almost immediately.  The bar itself wasn't too busy or too loud, making it easy for Clarke to see her rushing forward excitedly.  Relieved that she seemed to have picked the right outfit for the night, she waved and met Harper in front of the bar.

"Glad you made it.  We've got a table back there," Harper motioned, pointing out a couple of guys in the corner.  "But we take turns keeping Monroe company at the bar," she added, pointing out the blonde bartender who was chatting with a dark-skinned man as she led the way to the table.  "That's Mbege.  And Monty and Jasper are in the booth."

"Why is the one wearing goggles?"

"Jasper's a chemist and he forgets half the time he has them on is all.  We've got a pitcher of lager, but if you want something else-"

"Nah, that's fine," Clarke assured her.  "Beer sounds good."

As nervous as she was to meet the group, her anxiety dissipated within minutes.  The boys were friendly and jovial, and most of all, pleased that not everyone Harper worked with seemed to be an asshole.

"Is it, like, a requirement, for a surgeon?" Jasper wondered.

"Um, I think a lot of people learn that you have to be decisive and not doubt your own judgment as a surgeon, but instead of just keeping it about medical decisions, it bleeds over into everything," Clarke hazarded.  "I know my mom isn't an asshole," she added, taking a sip.

"And she's a fantastic surgeon, so yeah, definitely not a requirement," Harper chimed in.

"I didn't think it was a requirement.  You're a wonderful surgeon," Monty added, giving a smile to his friend.  When she smiled back warmly, Clarke suddenly understood.

"Oh, this is your boyfriend!" she exclaimed, then flushed at her own awkwardness.

"Yeah.  I...guess I didn't say that, did I?" Harper chuckled, putting a hand over Monty's on the table and intertwining their fingers.  

"To be fair, they don't talk about it a lot.  They just do it all the time," Jasper mentioned dryly, then shied away as Harper threw a balled up napkin at him.

"Nice, Jas.  Real nice," Monty chided him.  "Way to make a good impression on the new girl."

"Look, if she's going to be hanging out with us, might as well see the real us," Jasper defended himself.

Clarke looked up suddenly as Mbege stood over the table.  He jerked his thumb towards the bar.  "Your turn, Jas," he ordered in a tone that would not be denied, and after Jasper grumblingly went to keep Monroe company, he slid into the vacated seat.  "So what's your story?" he asked Clarke as he poured himself a beer.

"Uh….new in town, Harper's trying to get me out of my rut of going from work and home?"  

"Boring," Mbege answered.

Harper rolled her eyes at this, as if used to this kind of behavior.  "What's new with Murphy?"

"He's not coming back," Mbege reported sourly.  

"Why?" Monty asked with a frown.  "What's out there for him anymore?"

"Fuck if I know.  He's just being an obstinate asshole."

"Where...is he?" Clarke asked.

"California.  He followed a girl out there and now that it's..uh, over, we're not sure why he's staying there," Monty explained.

"She died," Mbege corrected.  "And he's fucking punishing himself or whatever by staying out there."

"Oh, well...that must be hard for him," Clarke temporized, unsure of what to say.

"Yeah, which is why he needs to get his skinny little ass back here," Mbege snorted.

Clarke didn't know how to answer that, but fortunately, Harper interjected.  "We're going to get some food.  Guys want anything?" she asked, gently scooting out of the booth and motioning for Clarke to follow.

When they were on their way to the bar, Clarke asked, "Uh...he seems to be taking the news kind of hard."

"Oh, well, you gotta understand," Harper began as she leaned on the bar next to Jasper, waiting for Monroe to finish serving someone else down the way.  "Mbege and Murphy were really tight."

"They went through juvie together.  Not like the little things we all got into.  Real juvie.  Mbege assaulted this one guy and Murphy set a fire and they got caught.  They looked out for each other in there," Jasper added, turning towards them.  "And they both had shitty home lives.  I mean, I had a shitty home life, but not like them and I got to hang out at the Greens.  They…"

"It wasn't good," Harper concluded.  "Like, Mbege's mom got involved with the wrong guy and after Murphy's dad died, his mom became like, the stereotypical abusive alcoholic.  But they had each other.  And they straightened out together.  I mean, Mbege is actually a cop now, if you can believe it, and Murph's a nurse.  Good jobs, you know?"

"If you guys are here, I'm going back to the table," Jasper added.  "No offense, I hate the stools here."  He hopped off before they could reply and Clarke took his seat while Harper got into the next one.

"Hey," greeted the bartender, a shorter woman with dirtier blonde hair wrapped up in a severe-looking braid.  "You must be Clarke.  I'm Zoe Monroe," she introduced herself, holding out a hand.

"That's me."  Clarke shook her hand.  "We're, um, ordering food, I guess?"

"Yeah.  The usual, I think.  Oh, Clarke, that's two orders of wings and an order of nachos.  Is that okay with you?  Did you want something else?" Harper wondered.

"No, that sounds good."

Monroe put in the order, asking, "So what were you guys talking about other than food?"

"Your friend Murphy and, uh, some of his background."

"Ah.  Get to Emori yet?"

"Just about to."  Harper cleared her throat.  "I'm going to hit the bathroom though first.  Be right back."  She offered them both a quick smile before turning to go.

Monroe just shook her head.  "She doesn't like talking about Emori," she told Clarke matter-of-factly.  "Can I get you a drink or anything while you're waiting?"

"Um, actually, just some water.  I don't want to drink too much on an empty stomach."

She served up a glass of water with a slice of lemon, talking the whole time.  "So, Emori.  The thing about her is that she brought out the best and the worst in Murphy.  The best, because he really loved her.  He was kind and protective, considerate.  Happy even.  The worst, because she was a criminal.  Not like we're all criminals.  You know, everyone speeds, lies on their taxes, whatever, right?  No, she was a con artist.  It was like, a family business.  They mostly did the fortune teller scam, but they had other things too.  And since Murphy was a nurse, they were like, eager to see if he could get drugs like Vicodin and Oxys for them to sell."

Clarke blinked.  This was not the story she was expecting.  She felt her mouth go slack in surprise, but Monroe just continued without aplomb.

"So at some point, Murphy convinced her to move away, because I think he thought if they were away from her family, she'd like, cut it out, right?  But she didn't.  And she started getting involved in some drug stuff out there, I guess.  With the wrong people.  There was a shooting, she didn't make it.  Murphy, thank god, was at work at the time."

"Oh my god."  Nothing could have prepared Clarke for a story like that, or the easy way Monroe told the story.

"Yeah.  So, Harper doesn't like really talking about it, 'cause she always wants to see the best in people. And she was on board with Murphy trying to start over with her on California, whereas Mbege was like, violently opposed 'cause he didn't like Emori at all.  And, you see, Emori and her brother, Otan, they were born with some deformities?  And their parents used that in their scam, said they were touched or whatever.  With Emori it was her hand.  It really, really rubbed everyone the wrong way, except Harper who...she's a good person.  She didn't think it was their fault, when they were raised that way.  Anyway, Harper doesn't like speaking ill of dead or the differently abled so that's why the sudden bathroom break.

"Long story short, Mbege is trying to get him to move back because he doesn't have anyone out there," Monroe concluded just as Harper rejoined them.  "I caught her up, she's on the same page now."

"Okay," Harper acknowledged with some relief as she climbed back onto the stool.

"So that's the Murphy Saga.  What's yours?" Monroe asked her with a grin.

"Nothing so dramatic," Clarke chuckled.  She related her tale, meager as it was, and soon found herself talking soccer with the diminutive bartender.  They made plans to go out to a game in August and by the time their food was ready, Clarke had decided that she liked Monroe the most so far.  She was straight-forward and no nonsense, qualities that Clarke appreciated.

As she hung out with more of the group over the evening, she found herself liking all of them, even the somewhat abrasive Mbege.  It was clear that he had a tough exterior, and he wasn't much for talking, but he cared about his friends a lot.  Jasper was full of jokes, most of which weren't that funny, but he meant well, and Monty and he seemed well-matched as a nerdy pair that Clarke knew Bellamy would both roll his eyes at and actually like.  

Still, she excused herself after about three hours, pleading fatigue.  "Seriously, this residency is kicking my butt.  It's as if I save all my stamina and energy for being on duty, and on my time off….nothing," she admitted.

"Harper's the same.  She's out like a light after she comes back from shift," Monty revealed warmly, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend.

"Hang with us long enough, you'll learn to waste hours and hours and hours just like the rest of us," Jasper opined with a grin.

"Honestly, sounds great," Clarke agreed.  "Looks like my ride will be here in a couple of minutes," she added as she stood up.  She pulled out a couple of twenties from her wallet and tossed them on the table.  "For my part of the tab."

"Way too much!" Harper protested.

"No, it's fine.  Extra goes to Monroe anyway, right?"

Mbege grunted.  "Message Harper, let us know you got home okay.  Those ride-sharing things aren't safe."

Clarke smiled some and nodded.  "Yeah, okay."

She dutifully texted Harper as soon as she walked into her apartment, getting a thumbs up emoji in return.  But instead of getting ready for bed, she spent a couple of hours working on the painting.  It was the perfect relaxing end to her day, mixing up the colors and gently painting on the canvas while classical music played on her Pandora station.  Even though she'd just met Harper's friends, there was something taxing about meeting new people and she relished the chance to chill out quietly in her own home.

She'd done something very much like this often back at Arkadia, painting or sketching on her couch while Bellamy took over her armchair with a book.  She missed their companionable silences at the end of the day, though she started when she realized she hadn't checked his Instragram since that morning.  

Smiling as she took out her phone, she figured that it probably meant that she had a good day.

 

* * *

 

It was a bad day, with only the fact that it was now over to recommend it at all, Clarke thought glumly as she stowed away her white coat in her locker and pulled out her bag.  It hadn't been the first time they'd lost a patient since she'd been there, but it had been the first patient she'd lost whom they hadn't expected to die.

No one expected an otherwise healthy woman with no comorbidities to throw a clot and stroke out during a simple vascular repair.  But, as she explained with De Palma to the woman's husband, their two children sitting and crying nearby, this was a risk during any surgery.  

"We don't yet have the technology that will tell us everyone that's at risk for something like this.  We have come a long way and we can save a lot of people, but some of them, we can't."  She cleared her throat.  "My father...the same thing happened him.  Perfectly healthy, until he dropped dead."

She'd sat with the family for a bit, long after De Palma left to do other things.  But it didn't make her feel better.  Instead, she racked her brain, trying to figure out what sign she'd missed, what test they hadn't run that might have detected this problem.  Even as she made her way to the elevator, and down the ground floor, she reviewed the entirety of the woman's treatment in her head, paying no attention to who got on and off.

So she startled quietly when Baumer spoke up and she found herself alone with the other doctor.  She blinked away tears as the other woman's cool voice filled the air.

"You can't save the next one if you're focused on the last one."

Clarke wanted to protest, but she knew, fundamentally, the other woman was right.  "I can't….ignore what happened today.  They all matter."

"Of course they do.  But focusing so hard on the things we can't control, you can lose sight of what we can do."

Clarke took a breath to steady herself emotionally, closing her eyes briefly.  When she opened them, she found Baumer standing right in front of her.

"You care for them.  That makes you a good surgeon."

And before she quite knew it, Baumer had leaned forward to kiss her.  Stunned, Clarke didn't move, just froze as the other woman's lips gentled over her own.  Baumer stepped back just as the elevator stopped and then doors began to open.  

"This is your floor," she said, as if she hadn't just kissed her.

"I...uh…"  Clarke shook her head as she hefted her bag.  "Dr. Baumer…"

"You can call me Lexa," she answered, holding out a hand to stop the doors from closing.  

"Right," Clarke breathed, before managing to get her legs working.  After she left the elevator, she glanced back over her shoulder at Lexa, still in shocked.

She saw Lexa's small smile before the doors closed again.

She couldn't quite believe what had just happened and it sufficiently distracted her enough that she was almost home before her mind turned back to the patient.  Without even thinking about, she called her mother as she stepped into the lobby of her building.

"Clarke?  Something wrong?  You don't usually call this late."

"Just….we lost someone today, on the table.  Unexpected stroke in a very low risk patient.  It just...I...how do you deal with something like this?"

She heard her mother sigh.  "Are you thinking about the patient...or about your father?"

"Both," she admitted.

"I'm going to tell you something my attending told me, something I had to think about a lot when your father passed away.  We become surgeons because we want to fix what is wrong with people.  But just because we can fix some things, because we know how, doesn't mean we know everything.  We can't know everything, because we're not gods, just surgeons."

"And that doesn't...scare you?"

"Of course it does.  But honey, what we know now is light years ahead of what we knew twenty years ago.  And doesn't even compare to fifty years ago.  And a hundred years ago?  Might as well have been the Middle Ages.  All we can do is our best, every day.  And maybe twenty years from now, we won't be losing patients like that, because we will know more about them."

"So you're saying hope is the answer?  Hope in new technologies?"

"Yes.  In better procedures, new tests, better ways to know our patients."

"And now?  How do I get over feeling like I missed something?"

"Did your attending say this was a case for the Morbidity and Mortality conference?" her mother asked, referring to the weekly meeting of residents and attendings, in which they went over cases with a negative result to see if other options should have been pursued.

"No," Clarke denied.

"Then you probably didn't miss anything.  Just...get yourself a glass of wine, or something else that helps you relax, and try to focus on the next patient."

It was so close to what Lexa had said that Clarke nearly fumbled her keys as she went to check her mailbox.  "That's it?"

"I can't say you won't think about this patient, but we're not gods, Clarke.  We are just surgeons."  She could hear her mother sigh and then take a breath to forcefully change the subject.  "How are things otherwise?  How's Bellamy, have you heard from him?"

"Uh, things are good.  I get out at least once a week, hanging out with friends.  The painting is going well, it's maybe a quarter done?"  She pulled out her mail, pausing once she saw the envelope with Bellamy's handwriting on it.  "And uh, Bell's good, still in Greece.  Loves it there."

The truth was she hadn't checked his Instagram in nearly a day and a half.  A girl - a woman - had started to show up in it.  Tall, thin, with this perfect long hair with blonde highlights, and a natural warmth to her skin that tanning salons promised their customers but could never hope to replicate, she wasn't exactly who or what Clarke wanted to see when she checked in on her friend.

"I'm sure.  There's probably no end of things for him to do there."

"Yeah, basically.  I actually just got another letter from him, so I can probably give you a better update tomorrow about it."

"Are you off tomorrow?"

"Yes, but on call so I'll just be hanging around the apartment, painting."

"All right, we can talk more tomorrow then.  Oh, but just one thing.  I'm thinking of coming down to Philadelphia for Thanksgiving, that is, if you wouldn't mind."

"Mind?  Of course not!" Clarke answered, a smile coming to her face finally.  "I'd love to have you here.  And your cooking."

Abby chuckled over the line.  "Mm, glad to see I'm missed.  Okay then, I'll take a few days, make a long weekend of it.  We can do something fun in the city."

"Sounds good, Mom.  And, uh, thank you."

"Of course, Clarke.  I love you."

"Love you too, Mom."

After her call, Clarke trooped upstairs to her apartment.  Mindful of her mother's words, about trying to relax, she decided to make some mac and cheese to pair with a glass of white wine.  While the noodles were cooking, she took a quick five minute shower and changed into a pair of comfortable sweats and a old t-shirt from school.  Once her dinner was ready, she settled into a chair at the countertop and, after a few sips of wine, opened Bellamy's letter.  
  


_ Dear Clarke, _

 

_    Hello from Greece!  I know I said that in my last letter, but I still can't quite get over the fact that I'm here, in Greece.  Seeing all the pieces of art that I've written about countless times.  There's just so much to see and do here...and eat!  The food is incredible.  I've never eaten so much lamb in my life, but it's absolutely delicious. _

_    I know that upsets you, eating lamb.  But seriously, it's so good, I can't stop. _

_    But otherwise, Athens has been wonderful to me.  I actually went back to the Temple of Hephaestus.  It's just so remarkably preserved, I feel almost as if I am seeing it the way they did in 400 BC.  If only they would paint it the way we think they did, then I could truly experience it the way the ancient Athenians did. _

_    Being from the United States, I can't tell you the feeling of what it's like to be in a modern city that's literally dotted with relics from the ancient and not so ancient past.  To be literally surrounded by thousands of years of history.  The oldest building at home is probably no more than 300 years.  But in Greece, a 300 hundred year old building is nothing.  I can't imagine what it's like to grow up in a place like this, with twenty-four hundred year-old temples looking down on me everyday.  _

_    And the people here are actually very welcoming.  I think it helps that I'm trying to talk to them in Greek and I'm so excited to learn about their culture and their history.  I don't talk about home at all, which makes me a less typical tourist, I suppose.  I only ever want to discuss their history, how the city has grown and changed. _

_    I've also met someone I'm going to be spending some time with.  Her name is Echo, like from the myth of Echo and Narcissus.  I honestly couldn't quite believe it, and to be truthful, made something of an ass out of myself about it.  Fortunately, she is a forgiving person, so she didn't hold it against me.  She was visiting a friend in the city, but she's from Naxos, one of the islands.  After we spent a few days together, she's invited me home with her for a visit.   _

_    I know you won't quite believe it, but the sound of laying on a beach for a bit sounds good to me.  I've been running around now for almost two months and I am a little tired.  Also tired of staying in crappy hostels.  Being someone's guest for a bit sounds refreshing and something I need right now.  Especially because money is tight, as you know. _

_    Since you get my letters so much later than you get my pictures, I'm sure this will be old news by the time you read this.  Hopefully, you're not too stunned about the pictures of me on a beach willingly and with luck, I'll be able to find a bathing suit that isn't too bad.  I know you're shocked but I didn't pack one. _

_    I hope you're still taking care of yourself and glad you're going out, enjoying the city.  I knew you'd like it there, if you just let yourself.  I'm sure by the time I visit, you'll be able to navigate the city like a pro. _

_    Until then, keep saving lives, like you do. _

 

_ Yours, _

_ Bellamy _

 

So that was the name of the woman in the photos.  Clarke had seen a few shots of the beach show up in his timeline recently and now she knew why.  Setting down the letter, she unlocked her phone and went to check, steeling herself for what she was sure would be new pictures of his...friend...who was a girl.

What she found instead were mostly pictures of a quaint little down, or of the sunset over the beach, or even a few meals.  Just as she relaxed, scrolling through the pictures which included a number of poorly taken selfies, one picture made her sit straight up.

Bellamy stood next to the girl - the woman - Echo, on the beach.  They were both wearing bathing suits, hers a little bikini that showed off just how in shape and gorgeous her body was, and he…

Well, he was wearing a bathing suit that really left almost nothing to the imagination.  It wasn't a speedo, just a part of shorts so tiny that, well, if Clarke ever wondered if her best friend was well-endowed, she had absolutely no doubts about that now. 

She could feel her face heating up.  She always knew that Bellamy was more beautiful than handsome and she'd certainly seen his bare, nearly sculpted chest before.  Hell, she'd watched as the muscles had been added to his lean frame as they went through college together, as he grew into a man's body while at the same time changing his diet from cheaper starches to proteins as he'd gotten more money.  

But in all the time, she'd never seen him as naked as he was in this photo.  And worse, because his arm was around that woman's also nearly naked form, she couldn't help but feel she was intruding on an intimate moment.  

Hastily, Clarke closed out of Instagram and nearly dropped her phone, so eager to rid herself of the image that seemed intent on branding itself in her brain.  She gulped down some wine and decided to watch TV, abandoning her food in the kitchen and taking the wine bottle with her.

As she tried to focus on the house redesign that the flippers were working on in the show, she tried to understand why she was so rattled by the sight of Bellamy and that...Echo, her name was Echo.  It was a perfectly acceptable picture of two adults.  And it wasn't like Clarke was into body-shaming.  She didn't think either was inappropriately dressed or anything.  

She chewed over it for a nearly a whole show before she decided it must be a reaction to her crazy day.  Losing a patient unexpectedly, to say nothing of a senior resident  _ kissing _ her out of nowhere, was a lot to handle and her mind was probably fixating on Bellamy as a coping mechanism.  Sipping her wine a bit more slowly, she nodded to the empty room.  That had to be it.  A good night's rest and she'd be more herself in the morning.

The next morning, though, she still couldn't bring herself to look through the rest of his Instagram pictures.  Instead, she decided she was going to focus on the painting in the dining room and just relax completely so she could face her next shift with a clear head.  So, she just tossed off a quick email to Bellamy in reply to his letter and then got to work.

 

_ Dear Bellamy, _

 

_    Sounds like a plan, you at the beach, and from your pics, it looks like you're enjoying yourself.  You of all people deserve some beach time.  I gotta run, but love your pictures.  They're the best. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Clarke _

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, kudos, comments, concerns are all welcome!


	5. August and September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's first surgical rotation ends and Bellamy goes from one island to another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay on this chapter, but here it is! Hope you like. Thanks as always to my lovely beta Anne.

Clarke made it to almost ten in the morning before she sat down to write a better email to her friend.  It wasn't just regret at answering him so flippantly last night that had her curling over her laptop in the kitchen.  She had to talk to someone she trusted to give her some perspective, even if it just meant getting the words out so she could evaluate them herself.

 

_ Dear Bellamy, _

 

_    I hope life on Naxos is going as well as your pictures suggest.  Relaxing, for real, on a beach, sounds wonderful and I'll admit, I'm jealous of you right now.  The fact is that I'm in desperate need for relaxation.  Life as a first year resident is stressful, which yesterday just put into stark relief for me. _

_    We lost a patient.  Someone who shouldn't have been lost, who did not have real risk factors.  And now two kids are without their mom after a routine surgery.  It bothers me more than it should, I think.  I know I can't see everything, know everything.  I know I can only make the decisions with the information I have.  But this woman's death is weighing on me and no matter what my mother or my senior resident says, I can't shake the guilt I feel about it. _

_    And speaking of my senior resident...she kissed me.  I...don't know what to do about it.  It's beyond improper, I think, at least while I'm still rotating through her department.  I think in another situation, I would pursue it.  She's brilliant, with skills I envy in the OR, and she has a real command about her.  Even though the attending is the boss, he obviously values her opinion.  I don't think he's gainsaid her once.  Hell, she even gets to call him Titus, not Dr. De Palma like the rest of us. _

_    She has that decisiveness, that confidence, that I really want.  She's not unaffected by the patient's death - I mean, what the else would that kiss be about - but she's not letting it weigh her down like I am.  I feel like she's who I want to be - that confident, determined surgeon who has the ability to help so many people without the guilt over those who don't make it. _

_    She's also very beautiful.  Like I said, in another circumstance, she's definitely someone I could see myself with.  _

_    Today is my day off, but I'm on call, so I've decided to focus on my painting.  I really wish I could pour myself a glass of wine to sip as I work, but it's not a good idea when I could be rushing to the hospital at a moment's notice.  Instead, I pulled out my emergency Swedish Fish stash and am getting myself properly sugared up as I wallow.   _

_    But at least misery is supposed to be good for art, right? _

_    Glad you've gotten some vacation into your travels and you've found a friend along the way.  I'm especially happy to see you eating what looks to be real meals.   _

_    Keep taking care of yourself. _

 

_ Love,  _

_ Clarke _

 

* * *

  
  


"I think I'm going to explode from food, like that guy in the Monty Python movie," Clarke whined, slumping down in her seat.  Her hands curled over her stomach, as if she could soothe the strain with a massage.

"Oh, that's it.  We definitely have to keep her if she's quoting Monty Python," Jasper remarked before taking a sip of his beer.

"That's not a quote though.  It's just a reference," Monty corrected.  "I'd keep her just for her excellent beer pong skills.  How'd you get so good, Clarke?"

The two of them did not look any the worse for wear after their three hour pre-game tailgate.  Now the gang was happily straggled out in the back of a corner section, taking advantage of the fact that the row in front of them was empty to prop their feet up as well though only Mbege and Monroe were really watching the game.  The rest of them were content to laze about in the stands, enjoying the last of the summer weather.

Truthfully, while she had a happy-feeling buzz going, she felt a lot worse about the amount of food she'd scarfed down and not so much the beer.  "It's in the wrist and I'm just a natural," she confided.  "My friend Bell and I would slaughter at this game in college and grad school.  People stopped playing us."

"You're rubbing your belly like your pregnant," Harper commented with a chuckle.

"If this is what pregnancy feels like, count me out."  Clarke stuck out her tongue.  "Why'd you let me eat so much?"

Harper laughed outright.  "One, you're an adult who makes her own big girl decisions about eating.  Two, we're celebrating being done with our vascular rotation and getting away from Baumer and De Palma," she reminded her, lifting her beer in a toast that Monty aped beside her.  

"Oh, well, they're not so bad," Clarke mentioned, eyeing the play on the field as the fourth referee called for two minutes of added time.  "I'll be glad to move into a different rotation though."

"We've got ER next.  I'm kind of excited for it.  Something different everyday," Harper noted before sipping her beer and putting it back in the cup holder.  "Though, I think I ate too much too.  I could use a nap," she complained lightly, yawning and putting her head on Monty's shoulder.

"If they give up another last minute goal, I'm going to murder them," Mbege grumbled to Monroe's enthusiastic nod.

It was, Clarke thought, very much like her friend group back at Arkadia.  Everyone seemed happy to hang out with each other, without necessarily having to be talking or doing the same thing all at once.  It was a familiar feeling, one that she genuinely missed in her life.

Of course, it wasn't perfect.  Bellamy wasn't with her and he'd become the person she always sat next to in the group, since in the cold he acted like a space heater and in the summer, he acted like her umbrella from the sun.  She smiled at the thought, knowing how he'd sighed about her complaining when she was too hot or too cold, but then tried to always fix the problem.  He was such a mommy, really.

The thought of him prompted her to pull out her phone and check his feed.  He'd left Naxos a couple days ago and was now on Crete, where nearly every picture was of an archaeological site on the eastern part of the island.  Or so said his captions on the pictures.  She scrolled through the latest pictures with a smile on her face, then moved backwards in his timeline to look at his last few days again.  Echo seemed to have disappeared since he'd left Naxos, so she wondered if his foreign fling was over.

"Yo, Clarke, want anything?" Mbege called, knocking her out of her reverie and she blinked up at him to see all the guys standing.  "We're going to get more beer."

"Just a water for me?  I need to hydrate I think.  And thanks."  She moved to pull out some money.

"Don't worry about it," he snorted before they wound their way to the aisle and jogged down the stairs.

"What are you looking at?" Monroe wondered before draining the last of her beer.

"Her person's pics on Insta," Harper reported.  "He's on an ancient Mediterranean tour or something."

Clarke flushed, shaking her head.  "Uh, no, he's not my  _ person _ , I mean, we're not, like,  _ together _ -"

Both women laughed after giving each other long looks.  "No, we didn't mean it like that," Harper assured her.

"Your Person.  So, we all have our Person. It's our…best friend, but like...more than that.  Like Monty and Jasper.  They're each other's Persons."

"And the Johns," Harper agreed, leaning back in her seat.  "It's why Mbege is so pissed off Murphy left.  His Person is on the wrong side of the country."

"And we're each other's Persons too," Monroe continued, motioning to Harper, who nodded.  "We all have friends that are closer to us than family.  That's our Person.  The Person who knows us best, and seen us through our worst, and is okay with all of it.  It's not about sex or romance or anything.  I mean, I'm ace.  Definitely not attracted to Harper."

Harper giggled.  "And Monty and Jasper are pretty hetero.  Well, Jasper is...I think Monty's definitely on the bi-spectrum, but he's never really defined himself."

"And the Johns, total heteros," Monroe confirmed with a nod.

"I don't know about Murphy, actually," Harper denied.  "Remember that time he said he didn't care who sucked his dick, just that it got sucked?"

"True," Monroe conceded.  "But he's never been with anyone who wasn't a girl."

"Well, that's not what makes him hetero.  It's about who he's attracted to.  He's just not been clear about that."

As they explained, Clarke relaxed, even chuckled at the description of Murphy.  From everything she'd heard, he would say something like that.  But they were describing all the things Bellamy was to her - the best friend, the person who knew her best, who stuck with her at her worst, wanted only the best for her.  "I..guess," she admitted.  "When you put it like, he's my Person."

"Cool," Monroe replied, turning in her seat slightly.  "Let me get a look."

Clarke handed over her phone and Monroe began to scroll while Harper only glanced at the screen.  "Not everyone finds a Person, you know, but if you do, it's like...I don't know...an emotional home for yourself."

"Well, yeah, that's Bell for me.  He's definitely got my back, no matter what."  She smiled down at her hands.  "There were days I couldn't get through without him and...days I wanted to kill him too though."

"Sure.  That's what being a Person is all about.  Doesn't mean everything is sunshine and roses all the time.  Just that when push comes to shove, they've got you."  Harper knocked her shoulder into Clarke's.  "I knew he was your Person, the way you talked about him the first time."

"Why are all his selfies so shitty?" Monroe asked as she continued to scroll through his feed.

"I think he does it on purpose to annoy us, me and his sister.  We told him he needs to take at least one selfie a day to prove to us he's okay, hell, he didn't even have Instagram until I forced him to put it on his phone for this trip, and he's just being a dick about it," Clarke described, making a face. 

"Oh, here's one where you can see...well, um, like all of him," Monroe laughed and Clarke knew instantly what picture she was looking at.

Harper leaned over and her eyes when wide.  "Oh my god.  That's Bellamy? That's… he's…...I mean.."

"That's some penis," Monroe finished for her with a smirk.

"Oh my god, give me that," Clarke flushed, reaching over to take back her phone while the other women laughed.  "Don't objectify my Person!"

"What was with that bathing suit?" Harper giggled.  

"He didn't pack one and he just bought it when he needed it and it's Europe, come on," Clarke complained, quickly exiting out of the app and putting away her phone.

"When he comes to visit, make sure he doesn't wear that if we go to the shore," Harper told her, still laughing.  "I love Monty, I don't want to be looking at some other guy's schlong while we're all together."

"Knowing Bell, he'll probably never wear it again," Clarke assured her, brushing her hair out of her face and resettling her sunglasses.

"Good.  That is distracting to say the least."  Harper gave her a grin.  "He's pretty hot though."

Monroe shrugged.  "He's not Keanu Reeves."

"Keanu is the only person Monroe's ever felt even like, a hint of attraction for," Harper divulged.  She patted her friend on the arm.  "We know.  No one is as good as Keanu."

That made Clarke smirk.  "Keanu Reeves?"

Monroe gave her a sharp look.  "You don't think he's attractive."

"No, no, I didn't say that, I just...that...I don't know, he's not what I think about when think of super hot guys…"

"Yeah, he's not Daniel Day Lewis in  _ Last of the Mohicans _ ," Harper chimed in.

"Oh my god, I love that movie!" Clarke agreed, beaming.  "It's so romantic… Them...fighting through everything together, coming together despite their backgrounds...oh.  Love it."

"Here we go," Monroe gave a long-suffering sigh.  "You had to encourage her."

Harper practically squealed.  "I adore that movie!  I have the soundtrack too, and I must watch the thing at least, like five times a year."

"Or more," Monroe grumped.

They continued to eagerly compare their favorite parts of the movie until the guys returned with the drinks, as well as popcorn that Jasper apparently couldn't resist buying.  He was the first to groan when he realized what they were talking about.

"Oh god, this movie again?" he whined as he slumped into his seat.  "Who started this?"

"Harper, but apparently Clarke's a big fan too.  Egged her on," Monroe ratted them out as she took Clarke's water bottle to hand over first and then grabbed her beer from Mbege's tray.

"Harper likes it.  It's her favorite movie," Monty loyally defended his girlfriend, first setting down their drinks in the cup holders and then folding himself back into his seat next to her.

"Thank you," Harper told him, sitting up and leaning over to kiss him.  One kiss turned into two, then turned into Harper murmuring something in his ear that made him blush and he nodded his head quickly.

"God, they're disgusting.  We're in public, people," Jasper complained, though with a half-smile on his face.  "I feel like I need to take a spray bottle with me everywhere."  He mimed spraying the two.

Mbege hooked an arm over the back of his chair and shrugged.  "You're just jealous because he's screwing something other than his right hand, Jas."  He ignored Jasper’s offended huff to gaze over at Harper.  "But you're selling yourself short, Harper.  Could've had me."

Harper just laughed, placing another kiss on Monty's cheek and settling back in her seat.  "Yeah, I know.  You and Murphy were always really clear about being just fine helping me out sexually."  She intertwined her fingers with Monty's and added, "But I'm perfectly taken care of now."

Monty smirked.  "Find someone else to hit on," he informed Mbege.

Who promptly turned his attention to Clarke.  "You?  Need a hand in the bedroom?" he asked casually.

She shook her head.  "I'm fine, thanks for asking though."

He gave her a two-fingered salute.  "Anytime."

As they settled down to watch the second half, Clarke couldn't help the smile that came to her face.  This day with Harper's friends had been a great idea, a way for her to become more a part of this close group of friends without it being a little awkward, like at the bar.  What's more, she felt totally at ease with them all, much like her friends back at home.

The only thing - the only person - missing was her Person, Bellamy.  But other than his absence, it was pretty much a perfect day.

 

* * *

 

Clarke was washing up to assist on an emergency splenectomy secondary to a car collision when Lexa came into the room.  The two nodded to each other briefly in acknowledgement before Clarke returned her attention to scrubbing each of her fingers individually on her left hand.  So focused on her task, she nearly started when the other doctor spoke.

"After shift, would you like to go to dinner with me?"

Blinking in surprise, she turned an incredulous look on Lexa.  The slim woman did not look over at her, instead keeping her attention on her own scrubbing.  The gesture seemed to define her as a doctor; her laser-focus, like always, was on her patients and being the best surgeon possible.  Even if she was asking out another doctor, she wouldn't let it distract her from the task at hand.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Clarke answered after a moment, trying to emulate her and concentrate on the task at hand.  "It's not a good idea to date co-workers."

"My involvement in your residency is over, Clarke, unless, of course you decide to try for a spot in vascular at some point.  But I don't think you will.  Neither I nor Titus would mind if you did, but I think your heart is in a different specialty so there's no problem in us dating."

Clarke took a deep breath.  "You're right," she acknowledged freely.  "I don't think I'm going to be a vascular surgeon.  But you're still a senior resident here and I like to maintain a professional distance from the people I work with."

"Which is why you're so friendly with Harper," Lexa said.  Her tone was mild, but the indictment of her hypocrisy was not.

"Harper and I aren't romantically involved.  I know you can tell the difference," Clarke returned, feeling decidedly odd that they were having this conversation at all, much less as they prepared for two different surgeries and weren't looking at each other the whole time.

"I'm saying that's no real reason not to go to dinner with me, Clarke."  

She seemed to like saying her name and, truthfully, Clarke liked the way it sounded on her tongue.  Lexa never used anyone's first name, except Titus'.  It showed her respect for her, as much as her desire, and Clarke couldn't help but feel flattered.  

Lexa continued smoothly, her warm tone suddenly infused with a hint of challenge  "I haven't known you to show fear, especially for something so small as a meal.  Seems...weak."

Clarke's chin came up as she began to run her arm under the water to wash away the soap.  The other doctor wasn't wrong; Clarke wasn't going to go into vascular and so, it wouldn't be a conflict of interest to start something with the intriguing surgeon.  And, Harper's friends aside, it had been some time since Clarke had dated anyone, really.  Lexa was sexy, intelligent, strong-willed, confident.  Just her type.  And what had she told Bellamy?  In any other situation she would go for it.

So what was stopping her?

Everyone else seemed to be going for what they wanted. Octavia pursued Lincoln regardless of their circumstances. Harper had her epiphany and went after Monty.  Bellamy even met someone when he went and followed his dream.  What was she waiting for?

"My shift ends at eight, but in emergency, it might be later than that," Clarke noted, beginning to rinse her other arm.

"I can hang around until you're done.  I've no other plans."  The unspoken part of her sentence -  _ other than you _ \- sent a shiver down Clarke's spine.

But she didn't let that show on her face as she turned around, ready to get gloved and gowned.  "Okay then.  I'll see you later."

"Wonderful.  I hope you like Italian.  I know a great place."  Lexa didn't even bother to turn around, but Clarke could hear the triumph in her voice.

"Sounds great," Clarke answered, in what she hoped was a normal tone, before walking away.  She had a patient waiting.  But, she mused, it was nice to have something to look forward to that wasn't simply hanging out with her new friends.

 

* * *

 

Clarke tiredly walked into her building the next morning, trying not to feel like she was sneaking back into her own home after a night out.  She was a grown woman, not a teenager, and if she spent the night with someone, that was her own damned business.

Dinner with Lexa had turned into dinner and drinks, and then a walk back to Lexa's loft apartment.  They talked and made out and finally fell into bed with each other, and when Clarke left in the morning, they made plans to see each other for dinner in two days.  To Clarke, who hadn't been looking for anything serious as she started her residency, it seemed like the perfect mix of casual and emotional.  She felt she had a real connection with the senior resident, but didn't feel the need to label it.

She stopped by her mailbox, pulling out a couple of bills, a magazine, two catalogs, and a letter from Bellamy.  The last brought an enormous smile to her face, since it'd been almost three weeks since she got his last letter.  She could see from his Instagram feed that he was still on Crete, though he'd made a comment about buying a ticket, so she assumed he'd be leaving soon.  

Hurrying upstairs, she let herself into the apartment and got the coffee maker started on brewing a fresh pot.  She flopped on the couch soon afterwards, stretching out her legs in front of her and tearing into the air mail envelope.

 

_ Dear Clarke, _

 

_    I am on Crete, visiting Gournia, the nearly complete Minoan city.  If had I known I was going to be an unemployed loser this summer, I would have signed up to take part in the excavation itself, at least gotten some more dig time.  Instead, I've arrived a couple weeks too late, missing out on something else because I let hope keep me immobile for too long. _

_    At least I am here now.  I'm not going to bore with you with the details of the site, since you'll have my Instagram for that.  I plan on taking a lot of pictures, and since I will accurately caption them, you'll know what I'm seeing it practically when I am seeing it. _

_    Except for what I saw this morning.  I took a bus over to this site early, boarding while it was still dark out.  As I rode here, we passed by this orchard of olive trees - olive trees that are the descendants of perhaps the first olive trees in Greece, actually.   _

_    As we passed by this orchard, the sun began to come up and I watched as silver-painted leaves of green seemed bathed in this orange, warm light.  I can't describe it.  I've been sitting here for ten minutes, trying to find a way to tell you what it looked like and can't come up with anything better than that.  I, who think myself a writer, absolutely can't describe it because that sentence doesn't do the slightest amount of justice to what I saw.  But I think I can tell you how it made me feel. _

_    I almost felt like crying, but I couldn't tell you why.  It was overwhelming, but in the best way, like a calm or a pause.  There I was, in all ways between places - in the world, in my life - and there were these olive trees, greeting the sun.  Doing what they were meant to do.  And I could only watch and be stunned by the sight.  I couldn't even take a picture, not one that wouldn't just pick up all the glints and scratches from the bus window.  So I just watched as the bus drove past this orchard, my head on the window and let it wash over me. _

_    It felt good to be back...being myself, once I got to Gournia.  Looking at the temple and the palace, seeing how the city was laid out and the pieces they've found there.  I think Naxos was a bit of a mistake.  Or rather, the idea of Naxos was fine, but the reality wasn't what I thought.  It turns out that Echo had precious little use for me once it was clear I wasn't falling in love with her.  Never been used as green card bait before.  It's….not a good experience.  Avoid it if you can.  And the next time I try to go to the beach, I'm going to make sure I go with friends, people I can trust.  Otherwise, you don't really relax.  Not that I'm really built to relax.  I think I'm a little like you that way, always wanting to move forward, to accomplish things. _

_    Now that I've resumed my scholarly wanderings, I can try to put that behind me. After I'm done in Gournia, I am going to go to Azorias, to see the oldest living olive tree in fact.  There are a number of sites near there as well, mostly related to the olive trade, as I recall, but it's such a vital part of Greek history, I'm excited to see them. _

_    I've been thinking about your email since it arrived.  I don't know this woman who you admire so much, but I can tell you that I like who you are and I don't think you should try to be anyone else.   I know you think of yourself as indecisive because you consider things carefully, but you don't back down from your decisions or refuse to make them.  Being thoughtful isn't a bad thing.  Take it from someone who used to put on an act all the time.  It's exhausting and ultimately futile.  You're a good person.  Just be you. _

_    Now, I'm going to return to being me and go "nerd out" at the site.  I hope you've gotten into the habit of having real, sit down meals at a table once in awhile.  If you have a flaw, it's that you don't take care of yourself nearly as well as you take care of everyone else.  I can say that because I do it too, but I just ate a meal at a table and I feel a lot better for having done it.  What's good for the gander is good for the goose, right? _

 

_ Yours, _

_ Bellamy _

  
  


"That fucking bitch," Clarke said aloud, infuriated that she'd used, or at least tried to use her friend like that.  And apparently sent him deeper into whatever existential crisis he was having.  She couldn't stand to see him refer to himself as a "loser" or be at a loss for words.  

Bellamy!  At a loss for words!

She hurried over to her bag, pulling out her phone to see if he was available over chat. She had to speak with him right away, and honestly, felt a little annoyed that he chose to communicate over snail mail rather than more directly.

 

Are you there?

I got your letter. Are you okay?

  
  


While she waited to see if he would answer, she poured herself a cup of coffee.  She took a sip, then frowned.   Caffeinating herself right now would only make her more agitated.  She had all the proof she needed for this theory when she jumped as her phone dinged.  

 

I'm here.  I'm fine.

 

I'm sorry that happened.

Do you want to talk about it?

 

No.

 

Do you..want to talk about something 

else?

 

I don't know what to tell you.

 

Do you want me to start sending you 

memes?

 

Please, no.

I'm actually okay.  Please don't 

worry.  

 

Clarke frowned.  How could she not worry?  He was literally half a world away, getting taken advantage of by women who she knew were preying on his innate goodness.  He was probably a perfect mark, handsome, American, kind, unlikely to be a predator himself.  She wanted to protect him.

  
  


I can't help but worry.

I don't see you everyday anymore.

 

Don't you have faith in me,

Princess?

Of course I do.

But like you worry about my eating

habits, I worry about you.

 

I'm touched.

 

Look at me refraining from the 

obvious joke.

 

Are you okay?

Yes.

 

That was true.  She'd been feeling relaxed and at peace with her place in life, until she'd read his letter.  But for some reason, she hesitated to fill him in on the update to her social life.  But he did seem to not want to talk about it, so she decided to change the subject.  A longer conversation would truly convince her that he was, in fact, okay.

 

Eat anything good lately?

That wasn't an innocent baby animal?

 

Shockingly, I've eaten some fantastic

olives recently.

Also, I think the olive oil here is a 

thousand times better.

 

I'll bet!

 

It is really beautiful here.  Remind me 

when I'm wealthy to buy a villa here.

I will definitely do that.

I saw you bought a ticket, where to?

 

Rome.  About time I got to see the place

all my subjects spent all their time obsessing

over.

You're going to have a fantastic time.

 

I hope so.  Looking forward to it, but I think 

I'll miss the relative peace of Crete.

 

Clarke took her coffee into the living room and tucked a leg under her as she sat on the couch.  She ended up speaking to him for nearly an hour before he had to go, but the conversation did wonders to convince her that he was handling Echo's deception pretty well.  While she didn't think he had ever been really serious about the woman, she knew from past experience how finding out that your relationship was rooted in deception could sour all your memories.   

 

Okay, well, promise me you'll reach out

If shitty things happen again on your trip?

I was pretty pissed off I found out in a letter.

 

I didn't want you to find out right away.

I wanted to deal with it myself.

But for most shitty things, yes, you'll

be informed more promptly in the future.

Okay?

Acceptable.

Have a good night, Bell.

 

Have a good day.

 

Clarke set down her phone with a sigh and leaned back against the couch cushions.  She understood exactly what Mbege was going through.  It wasn't so much that she needed Bellamy, her Person, to be by her side in case something happened to her.  It was that she couldn't be by his side when things happened to him.  Being on the other side of the globe meant that she was helpless, a feeling that drove her nuts.

Even though she knew he was excited to visit Rome, she hoped it would be the last stop on his trip.  She wanted her Person to come home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions, kudos are all appreciated!


	6. October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke finds her new relationship isn't quite what it's cracked up to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay on this chapter. I haven't been feeling well and finding the time when I actually felt good enough (and awake enough!) to write has been hard. Many thanks to my beta Anne, as always.

"I bought my ticket.  I'll be flying in on December 21," Raven reported over Skype.  Even though her camera was on, she wasn't looking up, instead fiddling with something in her hand.

"Great," Clarke answered as she nursed a cup of cinnamon apple tea, her traditional fall beverage when she was lounging at home.  "How long are you staying?"

"I figure I'll crash with you a couple of days and we can go up to Arkadia together for all the Christmas nonsense, then back down to Philly and I'll do New Years' with you.  I fly out on January 2."

"You're always welcome.  Just I probably won't go to Arkadia with you for Christmas," Clarke warned lightly.

"Uh, why the fuck not?" Raven asked, her expression aggrieved as she looked up.  "What's wrong?"

"Well, Lexa was saying that residents who make themselves more available on the holidays tend to get selected for the specialities they want later, because it shows a commitment to the job.  So I was going to volunteer for shifts over Christmas," she defended herself.  It was a good career move.

But Raven looked skeptical.  "Lexa said."  

"What?"  Clarke frowned.  "I take advice from people all the time.  I ask you, or Bell, your opinions and you give them."

"You ask me for car or computer advice.  You ask Bellamy for history or people advice because he has, and I quote, a 'better people IQ' than you do.  But everything else?  You're just using us as sounding boards, not taking our advice."

"I take my mother's advice about my career," Clarke corrected her.  "And Lexa has more experience than I do-"  
Raven snorted.  "Like two whole years more.  And you've told Abby to shove it too when you didn't like it.  She wanted you to go to Harvard Med and instead you went to Arkadia Med."

"That's different.  Lexa's an expert about this program; my mother isn't."

"Your mother has more than twenty years of experience and you didn't care."  Raven shook her head.  "I didn't think you'd be one of those people who was all, like, 'my girlfriend thinks this, so I do too.'"

"That's not what's going on here.  I'm just...considering her opinion."

"Well, consider mine.  I'm flying all the way there to spend Christmas with you and your Mom so you better not volunteer to leave me alone with her."

"I..I told you, I might get scheduled for Christmas regardless," Clarke protested. 

"But you also said they wouldn't schedule you for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day," Raven pounced, looking triumphant.  She brushed some of her long hair back over her shoulder and Clarke could see now she was wearing one of her "going out" tops.

"Uh, where are you going?" she asked, eager to change the subject for taking a sip of tea.  "And with who?"  

"I'm not really... _ going _ ...anywhere.  But my fuck buddy's coming over, so…"  Raven shrugged, as if dressing up, even for someone she was about to sleep with, was embarrassing.

"Is this the same guy from this summer?" Clarke asked eagerly.  Raven hadn't really had a steady relationship of any kind since Finn, with most of her so-called buddies lasting two months at the most.

Raven looked positively annoyed.  "Yes."  But she shrugged, adding, "He's just really good in the sack, calm yourself.  He's still a dick, not someone I'd ever bring home to, well, your mom, let's face it."

Clarke put up both her hands defensively.  "I didn't say anything! I'm just...that's great, that you've got a regular."

"Okay, now you're making me sound like I'm in business and he's my john," Raven replied dryly, but with a half-smile that turned into a full chuckle.  Clarke got the impression she wasn't just laughing at the joke, but something else as well, but before she could ask, Raven straightened.  "But speaking of which, I gotta go.  He'll be here soon.  So, you've got your marching orders, right?  No volunteering for Christmas?"

Clarke huffed, but nodded.  She did see Raven's point.  They had made plans together already and she couldn't expect Raven to change her flights just because Clarke was thinking of, well, basically brown-nosing over the holidays.  "Yeah.  So.  Um, I can't wait 'til you come out here and uh, I guess, have good sex?"

Raven laughed.  "Oh, I will. That, he's good at.  Talk to you later, Clarke."

Clarke waved goodbye to her friend and ended the call, only to settle back against her chair with a sigh.  She felt it was a shame that Raven remained so reluctant to open herself up to real relationships, but she understood it.  First, if the guy really just was an asshole who happened to be good in bed, that won't be a good first relationship for her friend after Finn.  Second, she didn't think Raven even knew what a good relationship looked like - her mother had a string of 'boyfriends', she had a messed up one with Finn, and Clarke's were all pretty much disasters too.  Octavia was probably the only person they both knew in a stable, long-term relationship and it wasn't as if that was particularly healthy in a lot of ways.  Octavia and Lincoln seemed like the definition of codependent, emotionally speaking.  Lincoln's self-worth was pretty dependent on Octavia's approval of whatever he was doing, and Octavia's was dependent on being assured constantly of Lincoln's love and devotion.

She always thought they'd get to a healthy place eventually, but she acknowledged that it would be difficult if they didn't shed their "it's us against the world" mentality which completely discounted their family and friends.  And she knew that Bellamy's concerns were, once you got past the over-protective patriarchal garbage, founded in some real issues.  Lincoln was ten years old than Octavia, and a former addict.  Meanwhile, Octavia's emotional health had been stunted for years by their mother, their poverty and honestly, having a second parent who was only six years older than her.  Bellamy was a great person, and wonderful with children, but he'd learned most of what he knew while making mistakes as a child raising another child.

Her gaze drifted over to the painting she'd been neglecting since so much of her free time was now spent with Lexa.  But she'd been looking forward to this afternoon, when she would be able to devote some much needed attention to the piece. She planned to work on the background this afternoon, since she still didn't think she had just the right shade for Bellamy's skin tone down and she knew that she'd end up wasting an hour or more at the store trying to find new tubes of paint for mixing.

Clarke changed into her painting clothes, a pair of cut off jeans and an old t-shirt of hers from a hospital fundraiser that she'd previously ruined when they'd repainted Bellamy's apartment after his newly-ex girlfriend threw a bottle of red wine at the wall.  Naturally, a paint fight had ensued, but they'd gotten the living room repainted and then hung out on the floor, eating pizza, drinking beer and trading horrible dating stories.

It'd been a good day.

She tied up her hair into a ponytail, heading towards the painting and chuckling to herself, when her phone rang.  Smiling to see Lexa's profile come up on the screen, she answered with a chipper, "Hey, on a break?"

"Good afternoon," Lexa greeted her, always a little oddly formal when they were beginning a conversation.  Clarke found it endearing.  "We had a set of emergencies last night and I only got home around nine in the morning and was given today off.  Since we both have tomorrow off as well, I thought you should come by.  I'm going to order from the Vietnamese place down the street and open a good bottle of wine."

Clarke pursed her lips, considering.  She had wanted to really paint that afternoon and she had plans to meet up with the gang at Monroe's bar that evening to play pool and try to see if one of them could finally beat Mbege.  She'd been planning on meeting Lexa for brunch tomorrow.  "I, uh, was just getting ready to paint-"

"Clarke.  How much time do we really get to spend together?  How often will our schedules line up this way?" Lexa asked, sounding oh-so-reasonable.  "The chance to spend the night without either of us having to run to the hospital in the morning won't come along again soon."

She bit her lip, thinking it over before nodding.  So far, their relationship had consisted of grabbing a quick meal and some hook-ups when their schedules aligned.  This was a chance to do something for more than just a few hours with her.  "You're right.  I need to get changed,  pack a bag...maybe an hour or so before I get to your place."

"I'll make sure the food is here and the wine is ready," Lexa answered, sounding pleased.  She hung up immediately afterwards, since she never said goodbye.

Clarke glanced at the painting again before firing off a text to Harper canceling her attendance for the night.  She'd try to find some time with it this week, after work maybe some evening.  

Even as she thought it, she knew she wouldn't.

 

* * *

 

Something about the light at Lexa's loft always made Clarke want to sketch.  As she prepared for work on Monday, she looked over the drawing of Lexa she'd completed the day before as she sprawled on her too-comfortable armchair.  Lexa, of course, had been reading over the latest studies in vascular medicine, sipping on the coffee they'd picked up from the bakery in the morning with some chocolate croissants.  Even though she was technically working, always working to perfect her craft, there was a peace about Lexa yesterday that Clarke had wanted to capture.  

It had been a good weekend, relaxing, talking about how they'd grown up, cuddling in bed after sex and being lazy in the morning.  Being with Lexa had been a respite from the world that she hadn't known she'd needed, a couple of days to not worry about what was going on with her residency, with the world.  She'd even refrained from checking her phone obsessively for updates from Bellamy.  Going home yesterday had been like stepping back into the real world, one filled with laundry and grocery shopping and somehow getting to bed on time to face her next shift at the hospital.

It ended up being a doozy, for all it was a Monday.  They'd had a nursing home patient come in after a fall, a compression injury on a teenager that could've taken his leg if not treated immediately, and one woman in a car accident whose arm had been practically shattered.  Each of those patients was eventually handed off to the right surgical department, but she'd scrubbed in on the orthopedic surgery with the woman.  Watching Dr. Nyko expertly put the woman's arm back together, like fixing a puzzle, and then carefully test and arrange her muscles back into place was a thing of beauty.  He also explained step-by-step everything he was doing, letting her know what secondary and even tertiary steps he might take if she needed a second operation in the coming days.

"I think he's probably the best teaching surgeon we have here," Harper agreed as they shared a quick coffee in the cafeteria.  "Everyone says so.  I think he wanted to be in medicine more than surgery, but he's just so damned good at it.  So he's got the bedside manner of a guy who talks to patients all day, but the skills of one of the finest surgeons in the world."

"He really breaks the 'asshole surgeon' stereotype," Clarke replied with a nod as she took a seat at a nearby table.  "But really, I was just...so impressed.  This woman's arm…"  She shuddered.  "Honestly, my first thought was amputation, seriously.  Dr. Nyko though.  He grimaced, he talked to her, said that it wouldn't be easy, but he thought they could save her arm.  If she was ready to fight for it, so was he.  Promised her he'd see her after she woke up and answer any questions she had about how the surgery went and what would happen next."

"You know, I just read a study about how like...seventy percent of doctors at hospitals are sure their patients know their names and what their instructions are, but only like...twenty percent of patients actually do.  There are just so many people involved in their care and the doctors are like, the ones with least patient face-time," Harper explained as she joined her at the table.  "And it's so easy to see that, but I don't think any of Dr. Nyko's patients don't know him.  He's so good about that, about actually interacting with them."

Clarke shuddered.  "That's scary, that only twenty percent of patients are clear about their doctor's instructions or even know who the doctor was."

"Tell me about it."  Harper sipped at her coffee and leaned back in her chair.  "Hey, so why'd you blow us off this weekend?  You totally missed Monroe actually beating Mbege.  Who is a sore loser, by the way.  God, you'd have thought this was a Cup game or something, the way he was just a big baby about it," she laughed.

"Uh, I, was with that woman I've been seeing.  Her schedule cleared up and, well.   You know," Clarke answered carefully.  She was nervous about telling anyone at the hospital that she was sleeping with a senior resident, knowing that some of the other first years were already sure that her being a Griffin had more to do with her being in the program than her actual skills.  "Spur of the moment, but she had the food, the wine, even figured out what we would do the next day.  Lazy morning, than we saw this art house film down at the Ritz."

Harper gave her a skeptical look.  "She called you up spur of the moment, but had like, an itinerary planned?"

"No, I mean, I guess I made it sound that way.  She's just a decisive person, you know?  Just knows what she wants to do."

"Was the movie any good?"

"Um, it was okay," Clarke acknowledged.  Honestly, it had been odd, one of those films that wasn't told chronically, with a lot of flashbacks that she didn't think really added to the story.  It definitely wouldn't have been something she chose to watch on her own.

"Sounds great," Harper said, dryly.  "Still, better than being here, I guess.  I worked, but Monty was so sweet, brought me a hoagie for lunch and my favorite half-and-half iced tea."  She chuckled.  "He and Jasper...oh god, they found this Ikea hack wall unit thing so they were on their way to Ikea to buy all the stuff, then Home Depot.  Of course, when I got home, they just were on the back porch, eating special brownies, and talking about their grandiose plans to get all the crap littering the living room put together."

Clarke perked up.  "Did you move in then?"

"No, not like...officially."  Harper shrugged.  "It's more like, when the lease is up, Monty's going to move into my place with me, but for now, we spend more time at his place.  I think Jasper's going to try and convince Monroe to move in with him, but she's like a neat freak and I think she'd kill him if they had to live together."

They chatted about their friends for another couple of minutes, then reluctantly got to their feet to head back to work.  As they were exiting the cafeteria, Lexa appeared in the hallway, apparently on her way to grab a quick bite.

"Hi, Lexa," she greeted her with a smile.

Lexa paused briefly, glancing from Harper to Clarke and back again before giving them both identical shallow nods.  "Dr. McIntyre.  Dr. Griffin."  Without waiting for a reply, she continued on, pushing on the door to the cafeteria and disappearing inside.

"Since when do you call her Lexa?" Harper wondered, even as Clarke felt a chill go down her spine.  Twenty-four hours ago, Lexa had cupped her cheek as she kissed her tenderly, murmuring her name.  Today, she was "Dr. Griffin," a person who apparently meant the same to her as any other doctor in the hospital.  It was like the proverbial switch was flipped.

"Probably since we began dating," Clarke answered, too pre-occupied to lie.  Harper's open mouth soon got her attention and she flushed.  "Uh, yeah, could you not, maybe...spread it around?"

"Uh, sure."  Harper seemed to swallow whatever she was going to say, for which Clarke was grateful.  "See you later, okay?"

"Yeah.  And thanks, Harper," she added, giving her a slight smile.

"Sure thing."

They walked in silence back towards the ER department, but Clarke lasted only about two minutes before blurting out, "I wasn't expecting like, her to french me or anything, but am I crazy for expecting a smile out of the person I'm with if we run into each other during the day?"

"I don't think so.  I thought it was weird, but I didn't want to say anything," Harper practically jumped at the chance to speak her mind.  "I mean, she's like that with everyone, so until you said you were together, I didn't think anything of it, but if you are-"

"It's weird."  Clarke frowned.  "I don't like it."

"Talk to her about it.  Tell her how you feel."

"Right."

The incident stuck with her all day and on the ride home from work, she rehearsed in her mind what she would say to Lexa about it.  She was certain Lexa would simply say that at the hospital, they should treat each other like everyone else, since Clarke herself was concerned about the appearance of their relationship, but she was also reminded of how Lexa could make a patient blanch while informing them of what she'd decided would happen in their surgery.  Or how she and Lexa hadn't actually really talked about being open in their relationship so much as Lexa had informed her it wasn't a good idea for her own reputation.

As she trudged into her apartment and fished out a beer from the fridge, she ultimately decided that Lexa was just….cold really.  Kind of closed off.  Maybe the epitome of those doctors who thought their patients knew them, but who only left the patient feeling cold and ignored.  But mostly, the idea that she could close off people she did actually care about in certain situations also bugged Clarke.

She opened her beer, letting the cap fall on the counter and went to the couch to flip on the TV to her mainstay, HGTV.  It was the perfect background patter to her thoughts.  Which, unfortunately, had found a really unwelcome comparison between Lexa and Finn.  They compartmentalized.  Clarke was his girlfriend at school and Raven was his girlfriend at home.  And Lexa probably thought that Clarke was her girlfriend at home and her subordinated colleague at work.  

She didn't like the thought of dating another person who could do that.

She didn't like the thought of dating a person whose default setting seemed to be chilly either.

And she mostly didn't like the thought of the person she should be the closest to being able to so easily be as cold to her as as she was the rest of the world.

She resolved to talk to Lexa about it, to see if she would work on it for her.  Except, over the next two days, she kept on thinking of other things that bugged her about the vascular surgeon.

The way she didn't seem to care that this was a teaching hospital, treating junior surgeons like lackeys and paying almost no respect to the nurses, aids and all the other staffers who did so much of the work of the place.

Or how she never asked Clarke what she wanted to do.  She always just made the plan and expected Clarke to follow it.  She wondered what would happen if they got into a real argument and was stunned to find out she felt like she could predict exactly what would happen.  First, Lexa would be surprised that Clarke was arguing.  Then she would be cold, and probably belittle her in some way, likely attacking her logic or saying she was being too emotional. 

By Wednesday, Clarke decided that she wasn't actually interested in trying to work things out with Lexa.  Which, she admitted to herself, was probably a shitty thing to decide unilaterally, but she really didn't think Lexa would suddenly treat everyone with respect after being so shitty to them all for so long.  It wasn't like she was an alcoholic, or neuroatypical, or had some other condition that could explain why she treated other people poorly.  She was just so focused on herself, on her own career, her own ascendance in the world, she legitimately didn't care what other people thought.

When she got the text from Lexa suggesting they have dinner that night at a restaurant close to her home - as always - she agreed, because Clarke decided even if Lexa didn't have a lot of personable skills, Clarke still was going to break up with her face-to-face.  Not that she thought that Lexa would appreciate the gesture, but Clarke knew it was the right thing to do.

When Clarke got to the restaurant, still in her scrubs from work, she found Lexa already seated at a table.  She'd changed into street clothes herself, a soft sweater and jeans that looked like they were molded onto her body.  Lexa apparently didn't like that Clarke hadn't made the same effort, frowning once she looked her up and down as she took a seat.

"Didn't have time to change," Clarke mentioned before she could say something.  And that was true, though she also didn't have the inclination.

A waiter soon appeared by their table.  "Can I get you something to drink while you're looking at the menu?" he asked Clarke politely and she noticed that Lexa already had a glass of wine by her elbow.

"No, I'm fine," she answered.

"We can just order now," Lexa added, already opening her menu.

"Actually, I think we need a couple of minutes," Clarke disagreed.  The waiter nodded and sidled away, while Lexa looked at her in surprise.

"I already know the best dishes this restaurant makes.  I know what you'd like," Lexa informed her.

"Yeah, I don't think so."  Clarke cleared her throat.  "Lexa, I don't think that...I want to continue this thing that we have.  In fact, I know I don't," she clarified, rather than leave her an opening to pounce on.

Lexa opened her mouth, clearly stunned.  "You  _ know _ you don't?"

"Yes.  I think we're not a good match.  I think you're a wonderful surgeon, but I don't think we're really compatible on a personal level."

"I see."  Lexa set down her menu, a calm, cool mask settling over her features.  "How have you arrived at this conclusion?"

"I don't behave differently in public and in private.  I'm…not warm and friendly in private and different in public.  I'm just warm and friendly," Clarke began, following her script.  "Especially with friends."

"And you think that my not hugging or kissing you at work is a sign that my affections aren't what yours are?" Lexa asked almost contemptuously.  "It wouldn't be appropriate to do that."

Clarke waved that away.  "I'm not talking about making out at work.  I'm talking about the way you treat everyone at work, including me, who you apparently have 'affection' for.  I don't like it.  But I also..I also get the sense you don't really have a real 'affection' for me.  You have an affection for a person you want me to be, which is the person who follows you around and agrees to do whatever you want to do all the time.  It's good for you that I'm a good surgeon in my own right, adds to your sense of self, I'm sure, but in the end, I think I just...tick off the right boxes for you."

"You've never expressed the slightest displeasure at our activities," Lexa reminded her.

"You've never even asked my opinion."  Clarke blew out a breath.  "About anything, actually.  You don't ask about my preferences, my hobbies, what I do.  All your questions about me have to do with my past, like you're vetting me or something.  And while I have enjoyed our time together, I don't think what this is can be more than that...or even something I want to continue.  I'd rather find someone who really likes me, which means bothering to get to know me.  And I'd also like to be with someone who doesn't treat people like you do."

"You're saying I have to coax out your opinions."  Lexa sounded so disdainful.  "Like I'm speaking to a child."

"I'm saying in the kind of a relationship I want to have, asking for my opinion is the natural inclination of my partner."

Lexa sniffed.  "I suppose Bellamy does that for you."

"What?" Clarke asked, getting hot.  Of all the possible reactions she'd anticipated, this question wasn't one of them.  "What about Bellamy?"

"I can see you're obsessed with him, the way you check your phone all the time."

"I almost never check my phone when I'm with you."  That was true, of course.  Lexa consumed all of her attention when they were together.

"I see how you are otherwise.  If you want to be heteronormative, that's fine, but hiding behind my perceived faults is just very childish," Lexa retorted, her tone condescending.  

Clarke couldn't help it.  She actually laughed, which made Lexa flush with anger.  "This has nothing to do with Bellamy.  I can guarantee that.  I actually decided on my own that I don't want to be with you.  I don't need to be lusting after someone else to figure out we shouldn't be together."

"So you say."

"Yes, that's what I say.  I know you don't like to ever consider what someone else says, but this time, I'm deciding where we go from here."  Clarke shook her head.  "You know, I enjoyed our time together, and I wanted to do this in person, but you're making it so easy to break up with you."  She got to her feet.  "Have a good meal, Lexa.  And, at least on my part, there aren't any hard feelings.  We're just not right for each other."

Lexa rose as well, her expression suddenly changing.  "Clarke, why don't you stay for dinner?  We can talk about this," she cajoled.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea.  Good night, Lexa."

Clarke left the restaurant, enjoying the bracing feel of the cool October air.  It felt good, like the clean break she needed from Lexa.  But she quickly decided that she didn't exactly feel like being alone, so she pulled out her phone as she hurried down the sidewalk.  "Hey, Harper, wanna go...have a bite to eat or a drink or something?"

"Is something wrong? You sound a little odd."

"I, uh, just broke it off with Lexa and could use a little company, I guess."

"Oh, yeah, then definitely I can hang out.  I need to hear the details of this," Harper enthused.  Clarke could hear as she told someone, probably Monty, that she was going out.  "There's this good diner about a mile from the hospital, is that good for you?"

"Just tell me where."

Which is how she spent the evening eating a club sandwich and a side of fries while chatting with Harper.  Who unsurprisingly was very pro-dumping Lexa.

"I...this is horrible to say about someone who is a doctor and is actively helping people to live, but I don't think she's a very good person.  Instead, she's like what you were saying, the stereotypical surgeon, 'I am a god' person and who wants to date that?"

"I guess.  Maybe I was just...dazzled by her or something."

"Eh.  We all make mistakes about who to date.  I told you about my asshole ex, right?  Cage, what a dipshit, but he was older and I thought so mature, and he was this steady hand that helped keep me on the right track to get into medical school, but really, just a control freak with some serious daddy issues.  Also, I think he was fucking this woman who worked with his family's foundation."  When Clarke gaped at her, she shrugged.  "Long, long story.  Monroe hated him, Monty hated him, Jasper, who loves everyone, hated him.  I think the Johns would have killed him eventually, but I didn't listen to any of that until he actually hurt me.  And it was like, maybe it's crazy to totally do what the other person wants all the time and that being in a healthy relationship isn't basically a full time job where you're reinventing yourself for the other person's approval."

Clarke huffed and leaned back in her seat.  "When did...how'd you put it all together like that?"

"Stupidly, or not so stupidly, I was reading an article about the subtle signs of abuse and it was like, light-bulb time.  I wish I could say that I woke up, or that I listened to the people who cared about me, but no, I was reading this article about all the signs and going, 'That's not me,' and then the next paragraph was like, this story of a woman who was all 'that's not me' and her husband almost killed her."  She chuckled humorlessly.  "Still, it took me awhile to get myself back, and then even longer to finally go for someone who was actually right for me."

"Monty's right for you, huh?" Clarke asked with a smile.

"Oh yeah.   I figured that out, then tiptoed around my feelings, and then I had that car accident and I was all, 'fuck it, I'm going for it.'  Or him, I should say.  I basically dragged him to bed, I mean, I propositioned him and he was like, 'oh hell yes' and yeah, rest is history.  Bee tee dubs, nerds in bed?  Very attentive, very responsive, very creative.  Totally recommend it.  Just, you know, find your own nerd."

Clarke laughed, bowing her head for a moment.  "Yeah, I think I'll try that next.  Just, not, you know, immediately."

Harper gave her a thumbs up.  "In your own time.  Just be glad that you were only a month or so into a bad relationship, not a couple of years."   Then she grinned.  "Are you going to finish your fries?"

Clarke shook her head and pushed the plate over.  "All yours."

 

* * *

 

That night, before she crawled exhausted into bed, she decided it was time to fill Bellamy in about what was going on in her life.  She'd been cagey over the last month, which she had at first thought was her reveling in a new relationship. And now she thought it was her subconsciously knowing she wasn't in a relationship she wanted her friend to know about.

 

_ Dear Bellamy, _

_    I've been pretty crap about emailing you lately and I wanted to tell you why.  It wasn't really work, and it wasn't just my usual god-awfulness at keeping in touch with people.  I was seeing someone at the hospital, another resident, and I let it kind of consume me for a bit. _

_    It's actually the person I told you about before, the vascular doctor whose skills I'd admired, Lexa.  She came on to me, and I was so flattered.  And being with her was like living inside this warm bubble, where instead of making decisions, sometimes life and death decisions, I let her decide everything.  Instead of having that incessant argument we always have about what to get or make for dinner, she'd just pick something.  It was a relief not to have to make a thousand tiny decisions, like I could just save my strength for the important ones.  It made me feel safe, at first, knowing that when I actually had to make a decision, they were all really important ones. _

_     But living in Lexa's bubble meant I wasn't making one of my own.  It turns out, I like our stupid argument about food, because even though it takes longer to eat, we know we're actually eating something we want to eat.  I like making decisions, I like making my own path, I like being in control of my own destiny.  It's like Cora said in Last of the Mohicans.  "I'd rather make the gravest of errors than surrender my own judgment." _

_    Also, it wasn't a good idea to date someone from the hospital.  One of my friends here, Mbege, would say, "It's bad to crap where you eat," and as crude as that is, he's right.  It's a cliche to get involved with someone at the hospital, which a lot of residents do because we're there all the time, but she's a senior resident and it could've gotten messy quick.  Especially if I handed over all my career decisions to her, like she wanted.   _

_    I don't regret being with her.  For all that we're not compatible, she's still an incredible surgeon and if I get to be half as talented, I'll have a long career.  Maybe this was an episode that helped me learn that I like being a decision-maker, something I needed.  God knows when you don't have confidence in your decisions you can make bad ones and my patients deserve someone who has confidence in her ability to make a good one.  I think all this has just made me understand myself better, if anything. _

_    Through it all though, I've enjoyed seeing your pictures.  Italy looks fantastic and I'm so jealous of your new diet of delicious food all the time.  Honestly, that one picture of that fresh bread and the olive oil made me so hungry.  And that pizza, that looked like all sauce with just a bit of garlic on it...I feel like I could smell it. _

_    Of course, all your old buildings and dusty books are awesome too, but you know me, food-oriented.  Especially after I'm out of a relationship.  I think I'm eating my post-break-up feelings, even though I feel good about the break-up.  Fortunately, Philly is a great food city and there's no shortage of good food to put in my pie-hole and make me feel better. _

_    I hope Italy is still treating you well but remember, America misses you. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Clarke _

 

She went to bed that night feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  But she didn't expect to find an email from Bellamy waiting for her when she woke up.  She read it while still in bed, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

 

_ Clarke, _

_    I'm sorry about your break-up, even if it was a good break-up, one that made you feel more like yourself.  I think you have that ability to just have a really intense thing with someone, even someone you're not necessarily meant to be with.  I've never had that, but I understand how you feel.  I'm always around if you want to talk too.  Call anytime.  It can't be that expensive...or maybe it can be.  I don't know.  Probably writing is safer for your budget and mine, but seriously, I'm always here for you.   _

_    I have to run but a letter from me should be there soon.   _

_ Bellamy _

 

Clarke blinked and read his email again.  He didn't sign off like usual, but she figured he probably was on his way somewhere.  And it wasn't like he enjoyed writing emails anyway.  

At least, she hoped that was it.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, etc. are all welcome!


	7. Into November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clarke gets some clarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay again folks, especially for a short chapter. It's just been a crazy time with all the holidays and now with some relatives descending for a long stay. Thanks as always to my beta, Anne, for picking out my errors.

"Part of me is happy to work Halloween, honestly," Clarke informed Harper.

"What?  We could be at Monty and Jasper's awesome 'Apocalypse Right Now' party, drinking and handing out candy to all the neighborhood kids and taking bets as to when Jasper's going to try to go streaking and how long it'll take Monty to convince him not to," her friend answered, already laughing.  "Happens every party when it's warm out."

"I don't remember that happening on Labor Day…."

"Jasper was designated driver that day for the rest of us," Harper reminded her.  

"Oh right yes.  He sulked about losing Rock Paper Scissors to Mbege, I remember," Clarke confirmed with a laugh as they walked back into the ER department.

"So why do you like working Halloween?"

"Because you see things like that," Clarke answered, waving to a woman dressed up as Cleopatra being helped into a wheelchair by a Lord of the Rings-style elf.  "It just makes working a little bit more whimsical is all."

"Griffin, incoming heart attack, bay 2.  Harper, got a broken ankle that needs assessment for ortho."  They split up after receiving instructions and Clarke soon found herself escorting a man in his fifties up to the cath lab for an angioplasty to fix a blockage.

The procedure had gone well and he was being wheeled to a bed in the hospital when Lexa appeared, her demeanor all business.  "I need to review your patient's records to evaluate the need for cabbage," she announced, already pulling up the scans and reports.  

"I've already evaluated him.  His blockage wasn't so significant that I think it's necessary to do a coronary artery bypass graft," Clarke responded, referring to the full name instead of the acronym, CABG.  "He had a mild heart attack, responded well to aspirin and nitro, and his 55% blockage has been corrected by the angioplasty. Diet, exercise, medication should all be sufficient.  He'll be monitored by a cardiologist, who will refer him if something changes."  As she continued, she could feel herself getting annoyed.

Lexa didn't respond for a long moment, until she finally nodded after a perfunctory review of the man's chart.  "I concur."

Which led Clarke to a conclusion.  "Is this just an excuse because you heard I was up here?"

Lexa, of course, didn't answer her question as she turned to face her.  "You look good," she said instead, making Clarke roll her eyes.  Ever since their non-dinner, Lexa had suddenly popped up half a dozen times in Clarke's path in the hospital, even though they didn't work in the same department at the moment.  

Clarke passed her by without a response, stepping into the hallway to get to the elevators.  While she waited for one, Lexa caught up with her.  "I take it from your juvenile silence that I don't even get a say in whether our relationship ends."

"That's exactly the problem.  I don't think I could have found a better sentence to come out of your mouth than that," Clarke burst out in exasperation.  "First," she began, counting on her finger.  "You insult me.  'Juvenile' indeed.  Second, you try to cast me as a villain or an imbecile for not wanting to date you.  And third, and really, most important, it takes two people to be in a relationship.  If one of them doesn't agree, there's no relationship.  In your version of our relationship, you get two votes, and I get no votes and that's not acceptable.  To me or any right-thinking person who values their autonomy."

"Now who is making whom sound like a villain?" Lexa ask stiffly.

Clarke blew out a breath.  "You're right.  I am.  Because you're trying to get something from me I don't want to give.  Let's just go back to being two professionals instead."

"No one is perfect, Clarke, and I have to make a lot of tough decisions in my position.  But, perhaps, you are right, and I need to be more...flexible, in a personal capacity," Lexa allowed slowly.

Clarke shook her head in response.  "I'm not saying you're wrong, but if you don't want to change, don't.  That's how you function, and that's...fine, for you.  I'd rather connect with people more, both my patients and the people in my social life."  She gave her a conciliatory look.  "Can't you just accept that we're not right for each other?  Certainly not long-term and honestly, you're way too intense for a fling for me.  I think it's just better this way."

Lexa didn't answer, falling silent as a nurse joined them to wait for the elevator.  But once they were inside the car, she gave Clarke a small nod.  When Clarke got back to the ER, she felt like maybe the other surgeon finally understood why she walked away.

"You're off on Thursday, right?" Harper asked when they ran into each other ten minutes later.

"Yeah.  Why?" Clarke asked as she looked over the chart of another patient.

"Monroe's off and so am I.  We were going to get some lunch, hang out.  You should come with us.  I'm off but on call, so we won't be out drinking or anything."

"Sounds….good, yeah.  I'm in."  A chill day out with friends sounded good. "Thanks for inviting me."

"'Course.  We only get you out once or twice a week, but we have to show you we're not alcoholics.  We can have a good time sober too," Harper joked.

Clarke grinned.  "I didn't think you were full alcoholics.  Like...functional ones," she teased.

"Thanks," Harper answered dryly, rolling her eyes before being called away to see the next patient.

* * *

 

They might not have been drinking, but Clarke almost felt like she had been.  She had the same giddiness about her that she'd usually get after a night of drinking with friends, but it was simply because Harper, Monroe and she had allowed themselves to get really silly during lunch as they talked about the moronic things they did in high school.

"No, he didn't," Clarke denied, as they walked towards Market Street and the ice cream shop they said she had to try.

"He did.  He figured that since they weren't maintaining this area of that courtyard - it was all overgrown - he could put a few pot plants there and no one would know.  But of course someone noticed," Harper described, rolling her eyes.

"Jasper got lucky," Monroe offered with a snort.  "If they'd been smart, they'd have left the plants alone and just watched and waited for whomever to come get it.  Instead, they destroyed the plants and then made us go to this All Drugs Are the Devil assembly that lasted  _ forever _ ," she complained.

"And the whole time, he's grousing under his breath that they ruined his plants, and I'm like, 'you're a fucking moron.'"  Harper shook her head.  "He can get really hung up on things."

"And people," Monroe added.  "You weren't here for his break-up."

"God, what a nightmare," Harper agreed.  "Let's not talk about it."

Clarke huffed.  "I guess I'll get the story eventually, huh?"

"Probably.  When someone's angry at Jas for something and drunk, yeah," Monroe confirmed.  "It was a bad time."

"Yeah, let's talk about something else," Harper enthused, as they got into the line that went well out of the door at the Franklin Fountain.  "What are you doing for T-Day?"

"T-Day?  Thanksgiving?"  Clarke grinned.  "Actually, my mom is coming down from Arkadia and she's going to cook the whole meal.  She's, like, great at cooking.  It's her big hobby, and she basically makes the gourmet version of Thanksgiving, and it's just...so...good."  She sighed, just thinking of the mashed potatoes her mother made.  "What about you guys?  Do you have a friends-giving thing?"

"T-Day, we each have fam stuff, though not the Johns.  They usually crash someone's family dinner.  This year, Mbege is coming to my family's hippie Thanksgiving, in which they loudly talk about this being a bullshit colonial white person holiday and try to convince him to eat quinoa," Monroe stated matter-of-factly.  "He'll grab a pizza or whatever on his way over."

Clarke couldn't help her giggle.  "Wait, if he doesn't like the food, why doesn't he go somewhere else?"

"He's trying to fuck my sister."

Clarke froze before she burst out laughing, not much at the words but at the casual way Monroe said this.

"Zelly's pretty much gorgeous, but, honestly, kind of insufferable?  Like every annoying vegan trope you've even heard about.  No offense," Harper added to Monroe.

She shrugged.  "You're not wrong.  My parents are anti-meat because of the meat industry.  My sister is anti-meat because she doesn't want to eat things with a face, because if 'it has a face, it has a soul,'" she quoted, then rolled her eyes.  "I think meat is a part of a normal human diet, and my parents are okay with my wishes, and mostly try to push me towards organic and locally sourced meats.  Zelda...she's a crusader, never stops about it."

"Monty and I are both doing my parents at noon and then his parents at five.  Jasper and the Jordans go to the Greens usually.  But we wanted to make sure you had some place to go." Harper smiled at Clarke.  "I'd invite you to my family's actually.  They're very laid-back and always make way too much food."

"Aww, thanks.  I really appreciate that," Clarke answered, both grateful and touched that they'd thought of her.  "You know, maybe next year?  Maybe I can convince my mom to come with and we can bring some dishes to your family's T-Day?"

"Oh, sure.  Of course, you'll have to prepare yourself for some less than gourmet foods."

Monroe laughed.  "Yeah.  Harper's favorite is that gelatinous cranberry sauce from the can, still in can shape."

Harper flushed, but stood her ground.  "It's true, I love it.  I like slicing it by the little ridges the can made in the sauce," she explained, making a chopping motion with her hand.

"I think my mom would die.  She does the whole cranberries slowly cooked with orange peels, blah blah," Clarke described around a chuckle.  "My favorite are the mashed potatoes though.  She does them with butter and some cream and a bit of garlic and they're so god-damned good."

"That does sound good," Monroe practically drooled.  "But my fave is definitely the stuffing.  Real stuffing, not what my parents do on the Tofurkey.  With good gravy."  Her eyes went a little wide as she nodded her head.  "I make Harper and Monty get some from both their parents and pig out the next day."

"Oh yeah.  The stuffing and the potatoes are always the first thing to go at my mom's dinner."  Clarke thought about it for a moment, then added, "Honestly?  Most years I can take or leave the turkey.  It's all about the sides.  And the pie, for me.  Mom makes this cranberry apple pie with a maple-glazed crust and it's so awesome, especially with a scoop of vanilla ice cream."

Harper smirked.  "We get ours from a local place.  Usually a pumpkin, of course, and a blueberry one because my dad loves blueberry pie."

Monroe shook her head.  "Blueberry pie is a summer pie.  Pies are seasonal things.  It's just wrong to have blueberry pie in November," she noted firmly.

"Monroe here has real Opinions, capital oh, about pie and the seasons," Harper mentioned unnecessarily.  "Even though I know for a fact that she'd eat peach pie all the time if she could."

"Peach is late summer pie and my favorite, but late summer only," Monroe sniffed.

"So if Keanu showed up with a peach pie right now, you wouldn't sit down with him and eat it?" Clarke wondered innocently.

Monroe rolled her eyes.  "Of course I would.  To at least educate him on the proper seasonality of pies."

As the three of them laughed, Clarke felt a great sense of belonging.  As if Monroe wasn't just Harper's friend, but her own.  And thinking on it, she was fairly sure if she needed help, she could call any of the guys too.  No one could replace her old group - there was no replacing Wells, or Raven, certainly not Bellamy - but it was nice to be part of a local group again, people she could hang out with on a whim.  It made Philly seem as much her home as Arkadia.

* * *

 

Despite his email, Clarke didn't receive a letter from Bellamy until Saturday.  After a busy shift at the hospital, she eagerly tore into the larger than normal envelope and flopped on her couch to read all about his time in Italy.  To her surprise, a number of blank postcards tumbled out, as well as a small replica arch keychain that he must have picked up at a souvenir shop, of all places, and a magnet with a picture of one of the famous fountains in Rome. Shocked that he would stoop to buying anything like that, she quickly began to read the letter.

_ Dear Clarke, _

_ It's hard to believe that it took me more than twenty years to come here.  I remember the first time I read about Rome and its Empire as a little kid.  I named my own sister Octavia, even, and yet I actually waited to come here until after I earned a doctorate in the subject.  I thought it might color how I see things, but instead, I feel just like that same little kid who found a cool book in the library and read it obsessively for weeks after.  Yeah, I know the history better, I can  see the importance of even minute details better, but….damn if I don't feel like I just discovered the wonder of the Roman Empire all over again. _

_ Which is not to say that's all I've seen while I'm here in Italy.  I did go to Venice, as the postcards I'm sending to you can attest.  It's kind of crazy to think that after so many centuries of being united under Roman rule, with standard laws and ways of living, that Italy would devolve into a bunch of warring city-states who hated each other even though they were still united by a common religion and mores.  Of course, then I see what's going on at home and it's not so crazy to think that a couple of centuries of unity could be undone. _

_ Before I actually went to Rome, I did make sure to go to Pompeii first.  With my concentration on the Late Republic and Early Empire, the ruins of this city are important.  I know I've used research from over a dozen historians about this city in my own thesis so of course I had to visit myself.  And while I was struck by some of the details, the mosaics, the graffiti (and people think folks are vulgar in modern times), mostly I felt like I was walking through a tomb.  So many people died here and died horribly.  This city wasn't abandoned gradually over time, like most are.  Even a city that experiences a plague doesn't empty out overnight.  But Pompeii ceased to exist in the span of a couple of days and there were so many, even wealthy folks, who couldn't make it out.  It bothered me.  I don't know why I thought it wouldn't.  Maybe they all died from a natural disaster and not something like a war, or a battle, but still.  Pompeii is an open-air tomb and I could only stand to be there for a day before I had to go. _

_ Being in Rome itself has been a lot better.  Not only because it's a living city, the Eternal City indeed even. It's because Rome has survived the loss of its Empire, being sacked, being bombed in the modern era.  It has a resilience that you want the places and the people you love to have in the face of the worst of circumstances. _

_ But I'm sure you don't want to hear about my maudlin thoughts on this sister-subsidized no responsibilities trip of mine.   As you might expect, the food in Rome is fantastic.  Roman pizza is definitely different than its American cousin, but still delicious.  I eat about half a loaf of bread everyday because I'm staying near this bakery and the smell makes me buy a loaf every other day.  I also started to get free meals at this one restaurant, because the owners took pity on a poor American who made their niece laugh. _

_ I'll admit, it wasn't exactly my finest hour.  I had decided to actually pay for a tour of some of the great Roman sites, just to get some access that I might not get on my own.  We were standing in the Colosseum and the guide started talking about how these trained, super fit warriors would fight each other and he was getting all of the details wrong.  Most gladiators had what we would call a gut, a nice layer of fat on their belly to protect their vital organs.  They didn't eat a diet high enough in protein to have the male ideal body we think about today.  He made mistakes on their fighting techniques too and perhaps I might have picked an argument with him about it. _

_ I know you're completely shocked at this revelation. _

_ As it so happened, there was this one American woman in the group.  She's been visiting relatives in Rome and after my argument with the tour guide she came up to me and said I was the most entertaining part of the tour.  Her name is Gina and she invited me to her family's restaurant, where I fortunately made a much better impression on her uncle than on the tour guide.  He was quite moved by my post-education poverty and welcomed me for a meal anytime, even if Gina isn't around. _

_ I'm actually spending a lot of time with her.  She teases me that I'm better to see the sites with than a tour guide since I'm a professional lecturer and honestly, I'm happy for the company, especially one that lets me show off my education which is currently not paying the bills.  I think you'd like her.  As interested as she is in history, she also makes me stop for gelato or to look at the trinkets being sold in the shops.  As she pointed out, this is these people's livelihood and not everything they sell is terrible. _

_ I hope you like the postcards I picked up and the little keychain of the Arch of Titus.  It's not the monument most people think of when they think of Rome, but honestly, I thought its shape would work better for a keychain.  The magnet I'm including because all my shots of the Trevi Fountain didn't do it justice and I figured it was the kind of monument you'd like to sketch, if you had the time. _

_ Also Gina made me. _

_ We're going to tour the Vatican next, even though it's outside my realm of expertise.  As a nominal Catholic, I suppose I have to.  But as she pointed out, if nothing else, the architecture of the place is something I should probably see while I'm in town to appreciate it. _

_ I hope you're doing well, but quite frankly, I am sure you are.  You have the resilience I was talking about earlier.  I know you recently had a break-up, but you're better at breaking up with people who aren't right for you than anyone I've ever seen.  Plus I am certain you'd reach out if you needed me. _

_ I should go.  We're meeting Gina's family at the restaurant tonight for a proper family dinner and I don't want to be late.  Please eat an appropriate amount of Halloween candy for me, since I won't be in the States to appreciate it. _

_ Bellamy _

Clarke enjoyed Bellamy's surprise gifts and his letter right up until the point he started talking about Gina.  A woman who had appeared not even once in his Instagram feed, which she knew because she still checked twice a day, at least.  It was still the same now, she thought, as she hastily scrolled through his pictures.  He'd been to the Vatican two weeks ago, even, and not once had he mentioned going there with anyone else.

Especially someone who "made" him do something like buy a souvenir.  The only people in the world capable of making Bellamy do anything were Octavia and Clarke herself, and usually only through threats of being incredibly annoying to him.  That this….woman….had suddenly come along and become one of their rarified group made her feel decidedly...uneasy.

With a frown, she checked Bellamy's follower count on Instagram and found he had a few new ones, including one called @ginathegreat.  Swallowing her pique at having to actually seek out the woman with whom her best friend, her Person, was spending all his time with, she clicked on this Gina's account to see if she was the right one.

It was clear almost immediately that this was the Gina from his letters.  Not only did her feed look a lot like Bellamy's - pictures of ruins and buildings, food, sunsets - Bellamy himself appeared in them occasionally.  And instead of the grimace he often wore in pictures she or Octavia forced him to take, he looked relaxed.  Happy, even.  Eyeing the photographer with that sardonic little smile of his, or staring at something off-camera with great interest.  

   And then there were the pictures of them together.  Not too many, but enough for anyone to see that they were…. _ together _ .  Her resting her head on his shoulder at a dining table full of half-eaten plates.  The two of them sitting casually on a low wall together, thighs and hands touching without embarrassment.  Even one of them together at outdoor cafe table, sharing a cup of gelato.

   Gina looked lovely too, with a warm smile and a sparkle to her eye.  She honestly looked like the kind of a girl that Clarke would cheerfully welcome into their circle of friends….except the thought of doing just that made her blood run cold.  The thought of Bellamy coming home with this girl who shared his interests and made him do the kinds of things Clarke would make him do bothered Clarke so much she dropped his letter and sprang up from the couch, as if distancing herself from his words would make the possibility of him bringing Gina home with him less likely.

Of course, she could be wrong, she told herself.  Maybe she was reading into their body language too much.  Bellamy was known to let his friends drape themselves on him.  God knows that Clarke flopped on him at will when he was around.  After thinking it over for a moment, she decided to get some more information about the question, grabbing her phone and walking to the kitchen as she typed a text to Octavia.

So...your brother has a girlfriend in Italy?

She didn't have to wait long for a response, since Octavia always had a hand on her phone unless she was teaching a class.

Yup.  Leave it to my bro to have both a weird 

foreign hookup and an awesome vacation

romance on the same trip.

He didn't really tell me about her, had to 

figure it out on my own.

He never talks about the ones he ACTUALLY

likes.  She's nice, tho. Talked to her on a Skype

call.

Oh?

Yep, calls him on his shit, which I'm 100% for.

Aren't we all?

Totes!  How's Philly?

Clarke managed to get through the rest of a brief chat with Octavia without freaking out too much, but once she made her excuses, she was left alone with her uneasy thoughts.  She didn't know why her first, and mostly only, reaction to the news that Bellamy had a perfectly nice, sane, pretty, kind and intelligent girlfriend was "ugh" and it bothered her that she couldn't be happy for her friend.

For her Person.

Even if he didn't admit it anymore.  Two messages in a row without his sign off and it bugged her a lot.  If anyone ever was Clarke's, it was Bellamy, and the fact that he wasn't acknowledging it anymore was admittedly making her nuts.  She poured herself a glass of wine and eyed the half-finished painting in the dining room.  Bellamy was totally hers and maybe this  Gina couldn't handle it and maybe that's why he wouldn't write it anymore and-

"Shit.  I fucking sound like a jealous bitch," she said aloud, then flushed at the truth of her words.

She did sound jealous.

Because she was...jealous.

She was fucking jealous of Bellamy's new girlfriend.

Because she seemed like a good person.

A person who could displace Clarke….and who might end up with Bellamy for years, if not forever.

When it was Clarke who was supposed to be his forever.

Her grip on her wineglass loosened and it fell to the counter, spilling wine everywhere, but all she could think about was that Lexa was right.  That she was in love with Bellamy.   _ Her _ Bellamy, not this Gina person's.

Ignoring the mess of the wine, she grabbed her phone again and threw herself on the bed, staring out the window glumly as she called Raven.  The engineer didn't pick up and she found herself leaving a message.  "So, I, uh, think I'm in love with Bellamy and he's dating, like a good person, and also is in Europe, and basically I need you to convince me I'm wrong, or that maybe wishing his new girlfriend ill isn't a bad thing.  Uh...call me.  Bye."

Feeling distinctly unsatisfied with that message, Clarke scrolled through her contacts to figure out who she could bother with this new, horrible realization.  Wells would probably counsel her to be nice, which she knew she should be, but didn't want to hear.  Her mother would be sympathetic, but unhelpful, probably.  That left Harper, since she certainly couldn't tell Octavia about this problem.

Harper picked up on the third ring.  "'Sup Clarke?"

Clarke sighed and let her head bang back against her pillows.  "I figured out I'm in love with Bellamy 'cause he got a hot new girlfriend who seems pretty nice and I need to complain about it.  And figure out what to do."

"Oh."  Harper sounded both surprised and distinctly empathetic.  "That's...god, that sucks, I'm sorry."

Clarke could hear Monty asking "what sucks" in the background.  "You can tell him."

"Clarke figured out she's in love with her person, that guy who's in Greece."

"Italy.  He's in in Italy now."

"Italy," Harper corrected herself.  "He's got a girlfriend though, not a bad one.  A nice one."

"That blows," she could hear Monty say.  "Tee and tee?"

"That's a good idea," Harper approved, then directed her next statement to Clarke.  "Doctor McIntyre prescribes tacos and tequila, not necessarily in that order."

"Not Doctor Green?" Clarke asked, smiling despite her general despondent mood.

"He's not a doctor," Harper sniffed, before yelping, presumably because Monty pinched her or tickled her or something.  "You keep that up and you're not invited," she threatened him.  

"You have a place in mind?  Preferably now?" Clarke asked.  She didn't think she could stand to be in her apartment with the letter much longer.  Really, she was itching to be anywhere but there.

"Of course.  Might be a wait once we get there, but yeah, I'll text you the address."

"Okay, I'll change and meet you there.  Thanks, Harper, you're the best."

"No problem, see you soon."

Hanging up, Clarke sighed and straightened.  Tequila and tacos sounded like a much better prescription than moping in her apartment.  She could only hope her friends might have some ideas on what she should do too, because at the moment, drinking seemed like her only sure plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments and kudos are all appreciated.


	8. November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's figured it out, but that doesn't mean everything just falls into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay between chapters, folks, and for this short one. I have an explanation up at my Tumblr,[here](https://callmehux.tumblr.com/post/160820098487/status-update-wips), if you're really curious about it. Thanks as always to Anne, my patient beta.

Clarke had four shots of tequila before the tacos arrived, a fact that everyone at the table commented upon because she wasn't much of a drinker.

"So, it's serious," Mbege pronounced as he removed a fifth shot from Clarke's proximity just as she was about to reach for it.  As she pouted, he added, "You'll thank me when you don't drunk dial him in a couple of hours."

Clarke wrinkled her nose but internally agreed he probably had a point.  

Harper pushed the plate of food closer to her, adding, "You'll probably feel better once you start eating."

"She'll feel better when she's sleeping with someone else," Mbege denied, ignoring Monty's groan of disagreement.  "No, I'm serious.  That's when she knows she's over it, when she can imagine someone else and not him."  When Jasper and Monroe just stared at him, he snorted.  "Look, just because I'm not into that whole romantic bullshit the world seems to be looking for doesn't mean I haven't been subjected to years of you guys going on about it, as well as every movie and TV show ever made.  That's how it works...you like someone and it takes liking someone else to really be over the last one."  He smiled, adding, "Like when you're erasing a hard drive.  Just because you deleted it doesn't mean the data is gone, you have to overwrite it."

"Okay," Monty allowed, adding hot sauce to his own taco.  "That's a metaphor I can get behind."

"I think I'm in the drowning your sorrows camp," Jasper declared, getting a bunch of knowing looks.  For Clarke's benefit, he added, "I went full wastoid when my girlfriend broke up with me.  They basically had an intervention for me."

"It was a intervention," Monroe corrected him.

"That wasn't how an intervention is supposed to go!" Jasper denied before turning to Clarke.  "Mbege sat on me and Murphy told me I was a fucking moron who knew how to ruin the good thing that is alcohol.  Then they all took turns harassing me and throwing away all the fun stuff from the house.  I was basically on house arrest except for work for a month! Nothing particularly reassuring about it."

"We tried the reassuring part the day before but you got blackout drunk again and forgot!" Monty  exclaimed.  "I told you that!  So we just moved into extreme intervention mode!"

"Whatever, it worked," Mbege noted with a shrug.

"I don't think...I mean, yeah, one night of drinking, but I think that's all I'll indulge in.  I mean, I can't be hungover or drunk when I'm at the hospital," Clarke ventured before smiling at Harper.  "Thanks for switching shifts with me for tomorrow."

"You'll get me back some time," Harper answered comfortingly.

Clarke didn't miss the fact that Monty had taken one of Harper's hands below the table or the small smiles they exchanged.  That was what she wanted, that quiet reassurance from a partner.  The thing she'd always had with Bellamy and didn't appreciate until he became someone else's.  On that melancholy thought, she bit into her taco and only barely registered how fantastically delicious it was.

The rest of the night seemed to pass in a blur of taco, tequilas and the gang trying to cheer her up, but she was fairly sure her blood alcohol content made making actual coherent memories of the evening impossible.  Though she did remember Mbege putting her into an Uber and threatening the driver with his badge if she didn't get home safe.  And answering Harper's call after she crawled haltingly into bed twenty minutes or so later, assuring her she was home in one piece.

Still, the hangover gave her something else to focus her regrets on the next day, instead of how she stupid she was to neither realize nor do anything about her feelings for Bellamy.  Of course, that didn't stop herself from lamenting that she'd fucked over her personal life, yet again.

She knew it was really as bad as she thought when Raven called her and didn't even try to tease or mock her.

"Yeah, I see what you mean," Raven said as she scrolled through Bellamy's Instagram feed and then Gina's.  "She seems like a person we would hang out with."

"Exactly," Clarke agreed from the couch of her darkened apartment.  She hadn't bothered showering and she knew her hair was a riot, but she couldn't care and knew Raven wouldn't.  "If he was dating some asshole, maybe I could convince myself it would be okay to encourage him to leave her, but even then, I couldn't dump all my feelings onto him and make it his problem.  That's a shitty thing to do."

"Some assholes are better than others," Raven replied absently, eyes still on the photos.  "I'm dating one and I like him."

"You're...admitting to dating him?" Clarke asked, suddenly distracted.  She sat up and smiled into the laptop.  "That's a big step."

"Shut up.  It's just, yeah.  We admitted to only fucking each other, liking it that way, and we have similar sorts of emotional baggage, so it works.  Whatever.  I don't like talking about it," Raven denied, making a face.  

"Okay."  Clarke paused, considering her next words.  "I'm glad you found someone that you like, makes you happy."

Raven's eyes went wide as as smile appeared on her face.  "Okay, thanks  _ mom. _  Man, that was such a mom thing to say," she laughed.

"Hey, I don't know this guy!  What else am I supposed to say?" Clarke defended.

Her friend shrugged.  "Let's get back to you.  What are you going to do about this thing with Bellamy?"

Clarke's brief flicker of a good mood blew out at the question and she slumped back onto the couch.  "What can I do?  He's got a nice girlfriend and he's happy, which we all know is not an easy thing for him.  I'm going to be his friend, and be supportive, and try to be...happy for him."

It was a hard thing to admit, especially for a "do something" person like herself, but Clarke knew this was one of those situations where, in order to be the person she wanted to be, she had to just accept the situation.

"Life isn't like a rom-com.  I mean, most of them have really disgusting premises, you know?  I've always hated it.  I'm not going to be like Julia Roberts and try to steal her best friend's affection at his wedding to another person.  Or Kate Beckinsale and John Cusick, leaving their really nice others because of some fake, whimsical bullshit thing from five years ago."  Clarke frowned.  "God, even thinking about that shit gets me upset.  You can't...fuck with people's emotions like that.  I mean, like, just because I'm in love with Bellamy doesn't mean I have a right to fuck with his happiness."

Raven got quiet, toying with something off-screen.  "When I found out about you and Finn, and he was saying how much he loved you while he was still with me…."  She swallowed.  "I was totally ready to ignore his happiness for mine."

"Rave-"

"No, wait.  I mean, except for the part where I realized the person I loved didn't exist anymore.  But for a good, I don't know, like three days?  I just wanted him to stay with me, even if he did love you.  It didn't matter to me, because I didn't want to be alone and without Finn, I was alone."  Raven sucked in a breath and forced a smile onto her face.  "But then I figured out I was already alone and staying with the guy who just resembled the one I wanted to be with wasn't good and yeah, you know the rest."

Clarke nodded quickly.  "Yeah."

"Is..there anything against being the person you want to be if you just hope it doesn't work out for Bellamy and his girlfriend so you can be the next one?" Raven ventured, breaking the uncomfortable silence that descended.

"Probably, but I'm only human.  Better than actually trying to fuck up his life," Clarke answered before rubbing her face.  "Ugh.  Why couldn't I have realized this and said something before he left?  We were both in a good spot, relationship-wise, life-wise.  It was fucking  _ perfect _ and I just let him go."

"But you got a look at his dick all the same," Raven suddenly remarked, holding up her phone to the screen, which was displaying that bathing suit photo from Greece.   "Holy cow."

"Stop!  I can't believe that's still on his feed," Clarke flushed.  

"Bellamy has never been shy, dude.  He just usually wears bigger bathing suits."

"I don't want to see his dick until he's ready to intentionally show it to me," Clarke denied, holding up her hand to block the image.

"I'm pretty sure this is intentional showing," Raven replied with a laugh.

"You know what I mean!"

"Yeah, I get it."  Raven lowered her phone.  "Look, I know Bellamy is your bestie, but when it comes to venting about his girlfriend, you know I'm there for you."

"I know."  Clarke smiled.  "I am looking forward to you being here for Christmas.  I already made a request to have one of the two Christmas days off.  As soon as the schedule comes out, we can figure out which day I'll be up in Arkadia with you."

When Clarke got off the phone with Raven, she didn't feel better, exactly.  But ready to start facing the world, without the benefit of an alcoholic buffer. She took a shower, got into some clean clothes, tidied up her apartment and went out to get some groceries to attempt to make a real meal that evening for dinner, along with some Gatorade as she tried to hydrate herself back to health.

Gatorade always helped.  Along with ibuprofen.

She was just running back into her building when she decided to check her mailbox.  Along with the usual bills and junk mail was a postcard with a reproduction of  _ Primavera _ , one of Botticelli's most famous paintings.  Flipping it over, she read the short note on the back.

 

_ C- _

_    Sorry I've been too busy to write.  Gina's family is the best, showing me all the out of the way sights.  The pictures don't do it justice.  Talk soon! - Bell _

 

The last of the note was cramped, as he ran out of room near the bottom of the postcard.  Clarke swallowed and read the message again, then blinked away the tears that formed in her eyes.  He'd sent her a postcard, not even a letter.

He really was slipping away.

She stuffed the mail into one of the grocery bags and hurried upstairs, upset all over again.  Fortunately, at least a little, she was still too hungover to consider reaching for a bottle of wine once she got into her apartment.  She forced herself to put away the groceries before flopping on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"I don't want to be a selfish shitbag," she told the light fixture.  

The light fixture, naturally, had nothing to say in return.

Fortunately for her sanity, her phone rang and she picked up when she saw Harper's picture.  

"Hey."

"Hey!  How are you feeling?" Harper asked cautiously.

"Crappy, both physically and emotionally," Clarke sighed.  "How's the hospital, is it a tough  shift?"

"Nothing too bad."  Harper clearly took a sip of something, probably coffee, and then asked tentatively, "Have you...figured out what you're going to do?"

Clarke blew out a breath.  "What can I do?  I can't be mean to either Bell or Gina just because she has who I want.  They didn't do anything wrong.  And, I mean, I obviously understand why she would want to be with him.  I just have to...keep going, you know, get over the fact that I'm an idiot for not realizing I wanted to be with him sooner and you know. Get over it," she repeated.

"I don't think you're an idiot," Harper denied.  "Look, I've been thinking about it.  I think, like, maybe you were..hiding it from yourself.  Because it's such a huge deal.  I mean, so Monroe's my person, right?  And I'm in love with Monty.  So if something goes down between me and Monroe, or if Monty and I have a fight, I have the other one I to go to, to lean on.  But if they were the same person?  I don't know...that's a lot.  That's..the whole eggs in one basket thing.  That's scary, so I get while you wouldn't have been in a rush to even think about it, much less doing something about it."

Clarke chuckled weakly.  "I think you're giving me way too much credit.  I didn't even know he was my Person, much less anything else."

"Subconsciously, I mean."

"I think you're giving my subconscious too much credit."  She stuck her tongue out at the ceiling and then sighed.  "Let's stop talking about it.  When's our next day off together?  I want to go out, see some movie, forget about all of this."

"Uh...if you're taking my shift on Wednesday, then….Saturday, I think," Harper said after a moment's thought.  "But Monty and I already have plans.  You could ask Monroe though.  She loves going to see really crappy movies in the theaters, loves laughing at them."

"I will.  I need some mindless crap, I think."  Reluctantly, Clarke sat up.  "Thanks Harper, for being such a good friend about all this."

"You're welcome.  I gotta run, got to get back to the ER, but text me later, let me know how you're doing."

"I will.  Have a good rest of the shift."

"Thanks!"

Clarke eased her way out of bed, deciding at least to cook the dinner she'd promised herself.  Spaghetti was one meal she knew how to cook, and the leftovers would be good for a few lunches for the week.  And while she was chopping up vegetables, she reviewed her predicament.  At least she had good enough friends that she could actually take a time-out from her life, with their help, and that they listened to her whine about her issue.

Which wasn't a really bad issue, not like, in the scale of human misery.  She had a good life.  She loved her job, loved living in the city.  She was happy for all her other friends who'd spread out over the country, and Bellamy, way before anything else, was her friend.  He didn't deserve and  _ she _ didn't deserve to mourn the fact that he found someone to love like he could and how he should be loved.  She wasn't in danger of expiring from unrequited love or being that mopey, annoying girl who couldn't live without the guy she wanted.

So she filled herself up with some pretty decent spaghetti, if she did say so herself, and settled in to watch some shows on TV.  Once she felt...almost normal...she pulled open her laptop, and started an email to Bellamy.  

 

_ Bellamy, _

 

_    Italy looks fantastic, and so does the food.  I think I made spaghetti tonight as much out of getting so hungry looking at your pictures as the fact that I don't have many things that I do know how to cook. _

_    Things have been a little rough for me emotionally lately, but nothing too serious.  I've been thinking about what you've said.  You like who I am.  Well, I like me too, I realized, mostly, and the parts I don't like are things I can work on, like not being to instantaneously judgmental.  A tall order, I know, but I can work on it. _

_    I've been missing you all this time and wishing I was with you, but I think I'm where I'm supposed to be.  Hopefully, one day you'll visit - you'll love all the historical stuff to do in the city - but I'm glad you've found some happiness for yourself.  You, of all people, deserve it.  Gina looks lovely (and a vast improvement from some of your past conquests) and I’m glad you found someone to share Italy with who seems to enjoy it as much as you do. _

 

_ Love, _

_ Clarke _

 

She read the email over a few times before hitting send, trying to make sure she was striking the right balance between honesty and not making him worry about her.  Satisfied she'd taken the right tone, she abandoned her computer for her phone to text Harper.

 

_ I think I'm actually looking forward to work tomorrow. _

_ It'll be good to think about something else. _

 

The reply took almost an hour to come in, but it made her smile.

 

_ Nothing like the ER to take your mind off everything else! _

 

That was something Clarke desperately needed, to focus on the part of her life that was going right.

* * *

"That was hellacious."

"Yeah, kids are the hardest," Clarke answered quietly, turning the cup of camomile tea around in her hands.  She couldn't handle caffeine after the two hours they just had, pulling bullets out of kids and adults who'd been at a birthday party.  It was the kind of violence that everyone always decried but didn't do anything about, not really, not enacted gun control or anything else to prevent the next tragedy.

One guy was dead, two were in surgery, but everyone else, including the kids, were stable.  But both Harper and Clarke needed a break after getting everyone stabilized, so they were in the cafeteria, trying to get their calm back.

Harper took out her phone from her pocket.  "I'm...going to call Monty, I'll be right back."

Clarke nodded, watching her walk away before pulling her own phone from her pocket.  She'd done her best not to check Bellamy's feed online for the past few days, keeping her phone use to texts, checking emails and actually as a phone.  Even though she had resolved to not interfere, she wasn't quite ready to be confronted with Bellamy's girlfriend on a daily basis.

She had a few emails waiting for her, one reminding her about an appointment coming up and one, surprisingly enough, from Bellamy.  She steeled herself before opening it.

 

_ Clarke, _

 

_    Can you pick me up at the Philly airport on Saturday?  My flight comes in from Newark at 2:45pm.  I don't know what your work schedule is, but let me know.  I have big news. _

 

_ Bellamy _

 

She blinked, then swallowed.  Saturday was tomorrow, meaning he was likely already on his way to the airport in Italy.  She hastily replied to him, hoping he'd be able to give her more details before he got on a flight.

 

_ Bell, _

 

_    Yes, I can, I'm off work that day.  Keep your phone on and we'll coordinate pick up at the arrivals.   Give me all your flight information so I can check to make sure it's on-time.  Let me know if you're planning on staying with me. _

 

_ Clarke _

 

She couldn't think what his big news could be.  She didn't think if he was - and she could hardly even think it, really - getting engaged, he'd be flying into Philadelphia to tell her.  She hastily sent a message to Octavia, who texted back that she hadn't heard from Bellamy about any news.  They were still trying to guess what could have happened when Harper rejoined her at the table.

"Bellamy's coming in tomorrow, flying in," Clarke blurted out, typing out another question to Octavia.

"Really?  Is he bringing his girlfriend?"

Clarke blinked, her stomach dropping with an option she hadn't considered.  "I don't know.  He didn't say anything about her…"

Harper nodded slowly then smiled.  "I'm sure he isn't then, if he didn't say he was."

"And if he was, I don't think his first stop would be here.  I mean, you'd think he'd want to introduce her to his sister back home…," Clarke added, sounding more hopeful than she felt.  "Honestly, she and I can't even think why he'd come here first if he was, like, done traveling.  Arkadia is home, so we have no idea what he's doing."

"Okay."  Harper winced.  "But what if she is coming with him?  What are you going to do?"

Clarke swallowed, then nodded.  "I'm going to pick them up at the airport and drive them to a hotel. I mean, it's not like I have room for two guests, you've seen my tiny place."

"Yeah, okay, but like….what will you do?" Harper stressed.

"Be polite, I guess.  What else can I do?"

"Right. Well, call if you need a shoulder to...I don't know."  Harper waved helplessly.

Clarke shook her head, getting to her feet as she noticed they needed to return to the ER.  "No, you've got your thing with Monty planned.  I'm going to meet Monroe for luck, take a raincheck on the movie, and, uh...deal with it.  I mean, what else can I do?"

She felt herself asking that question a lot lately and she always hated that the answer seemed to be nothing.  Clarke had always been a proactive person, but just waiting for the hits - or Bellamy - to come was torturous.  Not even returning to work really got her mind off of his impending visit, not really, though focusing on her patients was better than just running stupid scenarios in her head.

She even volunteered to stay for a few more hours after her shift after the ER got slammed with what seemed like a thousand patients, all with flu-like symptoms.  It was gross, but it was doing something, which was better than pacing her apartment.  She knew she was just trying to exhaust herself in hope she'd be able to actually sleep that night.

Of course, she should have known that the plan wouldn't work.  Neither did working out at midnight in the apartment's gym, a place she'd avoided like the plague.  Instead, she just felt energized, so after a quick shower, she'd ended up scrubbing down her kitchen and re-tidying the living room, all the while thinking of what she was going to say to Bellamy, or what she was going to do if Gina was by his side when she arrived at the airport.  

She fell asleep at four am with these very questions swirling in her head.

* * *

Clarke woke up to her phone ringing loudly in her ear.  Blearily, she grabbed at it, croaking out, "Hello?"

"Did you get drunk again last night?  Harper told me your boy's about to show up today." Monroe's far too normal-sounding voice chirped in her ear.

"No, no, just stayed up way too late worrying about it," she admitted, wiping the sleep from her eyes and eyeing the clock.  "Shit, we're supposed to meet in an hour."

"Yeah, but, if you're too messed up, no worries."

"No, it's okay, I should get up anyway.  And what am I going to do but be a wreck anyway until he shows up."

"Okay then, the diner?  Or do you want to go somewhere else?"

"Diner's fine.  Honestly, one of those slices of cake the size of my head sounds pretty good  about now," she admitted.  "And I promise not to just talk about Bellamy while we're there too.  In fact, please change the subject if I bring it up."

"Can do.  We've got YouTube if nothing else.  See you there, Clarke."

It wasn't a bad way to spend her time, watching clips of an old British skit show with Monroe over a big slice of chocolate cake and a couple of cups of coffee.  For a brief moment, her anxiety over Bellamy impending arrival left her and she could relax enough to hope that everything would be fine.

That lasted only as long as the lump of cake sitting in her stomach.  Before she knew it, she had a text from Bellamy, telling her he'd landed and promising to text again when he had collected his bag.  Monroe had given her the details of navigating through the arrivals at the airport, how she should make a few loops because the cops were always waving folks on instead of allowing them to wait.  

She hadn't felt this nervous since Match Day.

Her phone rang just as she doing the loop back onto I-95.

"Hey, Bell," she said, hoping like hell she sounded like normal.

"Hey.  So, I'm at Terminal A, arrivals, under the American sign."  He, of course, sounded just like the guy she'd said goodbye to all those months ago.

"Great, I should be there in five minutes or so."

"Okay, see you soon."

Clarke drove the car around, slowing as she spotted the American sign and the familiar figure standing underneath of it.

Bellamy looked like...Bellamy.  His hair was a bit long, but it was that same old disheveled look as always.  His skin seemed almost to glow, speaking to how much time he'd been spending outside.  He wore a blue henley that really emphasized his wide shoulders and the jeans with the hole he'd ripped over the knee when helped Miller and Bryan move into their new place earlier in the year.

And every bit of worry and fear she'd been chewing over in the last twenty-four hours seemed to evaporate just at the sight of him lighting up as he recognized her car and waved to get her attention.  She pulled over, double-parking, and hopped out of her car only to be enveloped in a hug.

Clarke closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, feeling so much like she was at home again she couldn't help but burrow into his chest.  "God, I missed you," she blurted out.

"Yeah, me too.  Five months apart is the longest we've ever gone," he replied, letting his chin rest on her shoulder.  He fit just right, like always.

"Let's never do it again."

He barked a laugh, one she could feel flow through her, and she pulled back slowly to grin up at him.  "I mean it."

"Yeah, I know you did.  And I agree."  He beamed down at her and she wondered how she could have ever felt nervous about being around him again.  More than anything else, he was her Person and even if she was in love with him, just having him around was a comfort to her.  He had a way of centering her that nothing else, and no one else, could do.

Still, the question had to be asked.

"Uh, is it just you?  Not your...uh, Gina?"

He blinked down at her, surprised.  "Uh, no, no.  She.."  He cleared his throat, pulling back and hefting his bag once more, his arms falling away from her.  "Not at all.  She's back in Rome, with her family."

"Oh, okay."   She turned, motioning to the trunk, trying to disguise the great rush of relief that she felt for sure was all over her face.  "Let's get your stuff in the car and then, I guess, on our way and you can tell me the big news."  

"Yeah...you'll never believe it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions, concerns, all welcome. :-)


	9. New November

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy reveals his news and now Clarke has a decision to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to my beta Anne.

They were on the road before Bellamy finally told her why he'd flown into Philly.  

"It's the craziest thing.  Turns out that Gina's uncle, a different uncle from the restaurant guy, obviously, has a job at a smaller college in the suburbs around here.  Eastern University, have you heard of it?"

"Um, no," Clarke denied, glancing at him in her passenger seat.  He'd already readjusted everything to his liking, as usual, and was watching the passing cityscape with interest.  "But there's a ton of colleges and universities here.  There's even a section of town called University City, but that's mostly due to Penn being there."

"Well, this is out in, um, St. David's, by something called the Main Line?"

"Oh!  That's, like, this rich people suburb area.  I mean, some really rich people live out there, but it's a lot of upper middle class folks too."  Clarke chuckled.  "When I was talking about growing up in Arkadia with my friends here, they all decided if I was local, I'd be from the Main Line."

"Okay, gotcha," Bellamy answered knowingly, giving her that half-smirk that seemed to be his trademark.  "Anyway, they're a Christian school, so they have some odd things, like a major in Missiology, if you can believe it.  But they are currently looking for a history adjunct because one of their professors just up and quit for apparently, scandalous reasons.  They have some pretty strict rules about morality at that place."

Clarke couldn't help herself.  "You sure you're going to be able to behave well enough to teach there?" she teased him.  "So, you've got a job locally?" she added, trying to restrain the surge of pure delight at the prospect of Bellamy being a permanent part of her life in Philadelphia.

"Thanks, yeah, I think I can restrain my delinquent impulses," he answered dryly.  "I don't have the job yet, no.  I have an interview, Monday.  That's all.  But I need to get a suit and prepare and, if I can nail this, yes, I will actually have a teaching job that probably pays absolutely crap but gets my foot in the door."

He sounded so excited, she couldn't help but grin.  "Well, I will keep my fingers crossed for you," she promised, knowing she'd cross her toes if she could.  "So does this mean your traveling is done, regardless, or are you going back to Italy afterwards?"  Clarke tried to make sure her voice was light, but she didn't think she did a very good job to judge from his puzzled expression.

"Yeah, I think I'm done.  I'd like to go to Spain, actually, but some other time.  On my own dime, if I can manage it.  I think I've exhausted Lincoln and O's goodwill more than enough."  He watched as the stadiums drifted by on their left.  

She bit her lip for all of a half-second before blurting out her next and most important question.  "What about Gina?"

To her surprise, he laughed.  "Oh, she dumped my ass."

"What?" Clarke could hardly believe it.

"Yeah."  Bellamy snorted as he shifted in his seat so he was half-leaning on the door and looking at her.  "I'd been helping out at her uncle's restaurant.  You know me, I can't just accept charity.  He was showing me some of his recipes and I was getting the hang of it, and he offered me a position, a real one.  I know the man liked me, but I think half of it was trying to get me to stay long-term so that Gina would too.  He's not a fan of the US, said we're a country of ignorants.  Which, you know, hard to dispute lately, what with the politics of this place."

"So when you took this interview, she dumped you instead?" Clarke couldn't wrap her mind around someone dumping Bellamy when she seemed to be a perfect fit for him.

"No, not at all.  Hell, Gina was the one who talked to her other uncle about this, was the intermediary for the whole offer.  It was more…"  He chuckled, shaking his head at his own behavior.  "I got the interview, found a flight, emailed you, made all the plans and an hour later, she cleared her throat and wondered where she fit in, if I would call or what. I hadn't even thought to ask her. And I looked at her like a moron, and she just shook her head.  I think…"  He grimaced.  "She knew I was way more excited about even the possibility of a job here than being with her in Italy and well, she's right.  She deserves someone who wants to be with her no matter what.  She's wonderful, funny, smart, but I don't know.  Something wasn't there for me."  He shrugged and looked back out the window and Clarke knew he was leaving something unsaid.

She tamped down the flicker of hope in her chest, knowing it was far more likely that he was about to say something self-deprecating.  "Oh, well, I'm sorry," she replied, reaching out to lay a hand on his forearm comfortingly.  

Bellamy flashed her a brief smile.

Clarke wanted to press, to figure out what he meant exactly, but also knew it was insensitive and selfish.  Instead, she cleared her throat as she put her hand back on the steering wheel.  "So, uh...did you want to go suit shopping right now, or just head back to my place to crash?  I know you must be tired."

"If I sleep now, I'll never get on schedule.  Probably best for me to get a suit now-"

"And a haircut," Clarke interrupted, then shrugged at his knowing expression.  "You're within tolerances of hair length for me, but if this place is a Christian school or whatever, you should definitely get a more traditional haircut.  Just not too short, it makes you look like a high school guy."

"A high school guy maybe on a TV show," he snorted.  "High school kids look just like that - kids."

She chuckled, nodding her agreement.  "Yes, you're far more filled out, with a way deeper voice and no trace of acne high schooler.  But still."

When he gave her that sardonic half-smile of his, she felt her heartbeat quicken.  "You think I'm built, huh?" he asked archly.

"I didn't say that," she quickly denied, knowing her cheek were going pink.  "Though, ah, speaking of which….that was a very...interesting...bathing suit you got in Greece."

He groaned, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall back.  "O gave me so much shit for that.  They didn't sell swim trunks in the store I was in."

"I'm just saying I didn't know you were an exhibitionist."

"Well, that's just a lie.  You know I am," he teased and she responded to his grin with one of her own.

"An below-waist exhibitionist," she corrected.

"I'm not ashamed of my body."

"Clearly."  She grinned, glad that despite knowing exactly how she felt about him, they were slipping into their old banter patterns.  "Okay, so what do you want to do?  Eat?  Get a suit?  A haircut?  What's first on the agenda?"

"Eat.  Nothing but crappy plane and airport food for a day now.  Do you know a good Thai or Vietnamese place around here?  Obviously, I've had my fill of Mediterranean food for a bit."

"I know a place," she confirmed, making a mental adjustment of the route they would take.  Before she knew it, they were being seated at the small restaurant and she looked over the menu before remembering to ask about his sister.

"Hey, did you let O know you got in safely?  And tell her about the job interview?"

"Yeah, I called her while waiting at the baggage claim.  She said she forgives me for not coming to see her first," he replied absently, attention focused on the menu.

"You did keep us in unnecessary suspense about the whole thing," Clarke admonished him lightly.

"You know how much I hate email as a form of communication."

"We were worried, you know."  She took a sip of her water.  "O thought maybe you were announcing your engagement...or elopement, maybe."  As soon as her friend had suggested the possibility, Clarke had done everything possible to not consider it, which naturally meant it had featured prominently in her restlessness last night.

Bellamy looked up, startled.  "No, definitely no.  I mean...fuck, I would never ask someone to marry me when I don't even have a job."

"Uh...you know, women can be the earners nowadays," she replied dryly, unable to let something that sounded so sexist pass by without comment, not matter how happy she was that he didn't even think of marrying Gina.

"That's not what I mean and you know it.  I'm not in a position where I feel like I have something to offer, especially to someone who only knew me for a span of weeks."  He ducked his head, as if he was studying the menu.

"Bell…," she began, only to be interrupted by the waitress coming to take their order.  When she left, Bellamy took control of the conversation, telling about so many of the details that had been missing from his letters.  Clarke found herself regaled with tales of getting lost in Florence, of being nowhere near a public bathroom on Crete when he desperately needed one and a local farmer taking pity on him, and even the peril of mispronouncing a word in Turkey when he was ordering lunch. 

Even though he was telling all about his time away, she couldn't help but feel like they were right back where they were in June.  All her worrying about the distance making their rapport fade had been for nothing; she felt as comfortable with him as the day they parted in Arkadia.  So of course she had no trouble insisting that he get his hair cut before they get a him a suit as they left the little restaurant.

"You need to know how you're going to look in the interview, so of course it makes sense to get the haircut first," she argued as they buckled themselves back into the car.

"I want to get the suit first so I can just take a shower after the haircut.  I hate the feeling of my hair just after a cut," he declared, sounding more than a little petulant.

Clarke rolled her eyes and checked the traffic before pulling out of the parking space.  "Well, tough.  Because I'm not driving you to get a suit first.  Besides, it's not like we have to go back to Arkadia for you to get a shower...you'll just wait, like an hour, while we get you a suit that works."

"What if I just let you pick out the suit I buy?" Bellamy offered in such a way, she just had to laugh.

"Right, as if I'd just let you pick one out.  I saw what happened the last time you needed to buy a suit," she snorted.  He'd come back with a suit a bit too large, for comfort's sake, and ended up looking like the world's handsomest hobo.  Fortunately for him, Octavia had taken him back to the store to find one with a better fit.

"I'm not as incompetent at this as you and O make me out to be," he griped, but he had a small smile on his face that signaled to her he wasn't going to fight her too hard on this.

"Sometimes I think you feign the incompetence so we do it for you," Clarke grumbled good-naturedly, only to see his wry look.  "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I figure you guys would have opinions about my hair and my suits anyway, right?"  He shrugged.  "But fine, haircut first."

Clarke naturally took charge at the barber's, directing how long Bellamy's hair should be, while Bellamy himself apologized to the man because she was so "bossy." Not that she felt the slightest bit bad about it.  In order for him to have both a more conservative look without looking too boyish, his hair had to be just right, just long enough for the ends to start to curl.  

The barber merely smiled patiently at her and shrugged at Bellamy, saying that he understood, and Clarke and Bellamy exchanged a glance.  There wasn't any point to telling the man they were best friends, not lovers, but it hadn't been the first time someone had made the mistake about them.

Now Clarke wondered if they all were simply seeing what she'd been oblivious to for all those years.

However, Bellamy was more visibly annoyed when they went suit shopping.  The store had a buy one, get one free deal going, which Clarke insisted that he use, as well as on-site tailoring, and then she spent way too much time, in his vocal opinion, picking out the suits, the shirts and the ties he needed to purchase as well.

"It just makes more sense to buy one of the cheaper suits not in the sale," Bellamy argued as she frowned over the ties, discarding a burgundy one.  "I have another suit at home.  This is just to get me through the interview tomorrow before O can mail me some of my things from storage."

"First, the cheaper suits  _ look _ like cheaper suits.  That's not how you want to look in an interview.  Second, I said I would help or just pay for it outright, because I know it's more than you were looking to spend.  Third, when you are in academia, you're going to need to own more than two suits anyway, because you're going to have to show up to the crap you tried to avoid as a grad student, when you were allowed to look like a grad student."

"I don't like you buying me things," he groused, glowering at her as if it would change her mind in the slightest.

She gave him an unimpressed look.  "Tough?  You know I have the money, it's not a big deal.  Think of this as your birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.  Or as a donation from someone whose tax bracket doesn't make sense to the education our youth.  Whatever," she dismissed his concerns, settling on a royal blue tie. 

"Clarke-"

"Bellamy," she answered, rounding on him.  "Look, I just want you to have your best chance, okay?  I don't want you to have to cut corners, especially if I'm right here to help you avoid that."

She watched the emotions flicker over his face, from annoyance to vulnerability to resignation.  "I'll pay you back."

"You really don't need to."  But Clarke also knew that he'd insist and, as he'd said before, he didn't like thinking he was receiving charity, so she added, "While you're here with me, you can be in charge of all the food stuff, groceries, cooking.  You know I'm awful at that."

A bit of a smile returned to his face.  "That's an understatement.  I'll be surprised if there's more than a few yogurts and a couple takeout containers in your fridge."  Finally, he nodded.  "Okay, deal."

Bellamy was less of a grump after that, mostly patient as she made him try on a few different suits and talked with the sales associate about how fast any tailoring could be done.  In the end, they decided to take with them right away the dark grey suit that fit better off the rack and leave the black one for tailoring.  When they picked up the black one, they'd leave the grey one.  That way he'd have a suit for his interview in two days and another immediately if he had a follow-up interview.

He was not as pleased when she reminded him they had to get dress shoes for him as well.  "I don't think flip-flops, sandals or your sneakers would work with the suit," she pointed out and he grudgingly agreed.   

By the time they got back to her apartment, she could tell he was both somewhat uneasy with all the money she'd spent and tired from all the running around, after flying back from Italy.  So she told him to relax on the couch while she made them some tea.

He took the mug she handed him with a tired, grateful smile, then folded her leg under her as she joined him.  "Sorry I went all...super shopper on you."

Bellamy shook his head.  "No, you were right.  How you look, how I present myself, it's a big deal.  I shouldn't have…"  He sighed.  "Thank you.  I appreciate it all."  He ran his hand through his newly shortened hair and grimaced.

"I know it's still a little early, but why don't you take a shower while I make up the couch for myself.  Then you can crash in my bed and-"

"I'm not taking your bed," he denied.  "I'm not compromising on that.  You said you're going to work an overnight tomorrow and you need good sleep to do that. The couch is more than fine.  God knows, I've fallen asleep on it enough back in Arkadia."

Clarke knew she was going to have to let him win one of their battles today, so nodded.  But she couldn't help but add, "When I'm not here tomorrow night, sleep in my bed, okay?  I can change the sheets before I go to work."

He chuckled.  "I'm pretty sure I can change the sheets, if they even really need changing.  Something tells me I'm not going to get some sort of infectious disease from your bed."

"I  _ do _ work in a hospital…," she answered, only to smile as he nudged her shoulder with his own, careful not to spill tea from either of their mugs.

"I'm glad you're home," she added in the companionable silence that followed.   "Even though I know you were pretty safe and careful, I was still worried about you, being off on your own, far away."

"It was nice, knowing someone other than O was concerned," he admitted.  "Would've been nicer if you guys could have come with me."

"Next time," she promised.  "Spain, like you said.  I've always want to see the Alhambra and the Prado Museum.  And Seville.  I've heard Seville is gorgeous."

He grinned and they chatted about what they might do in Spain and then Portugal, since it was so close.  When his eyelids began to droop, she gently took his mug away from him and urged him to get a shower and change while she made up the couch.

Clarke watched as he emerged the bathroom sometime later, shuffling to the couch with his familiar plaid pajama bottoms and an old Arkadia University t-shirt that had been worn thin over the years.  Minus the haircut, he looked so much like he did six months ago, she could almost for a moment believe they were back in their old building, about to settle in for a night of TV and takeout.  

"It's too early to go to sleep," he noted, glancing at his phone as he plugged it into the charger.

"But you're exhausted and probably could use more than a simple eight hours.  Relax, sleep.  You've got a whole day and a half before your interview to try and get on a better sleep schedule."

"And what are you going to do while I sack out on your couch?" he asked around a yawn.  

"Probably read a bit in my bedroom, so I don't disturb you.  Honestly, I didn't sleep much last night myself, so I could probably use an early bedtime," she replied from the kitchen where she was putting their mugs into the dishwasher.  "I'll see you in the morning before I go to work."

Bellamy was already stretching out on the couch, one arm tucked behind his head, his eyes closed.  "Thanks, Clarke.  I really appreciate it," he told her sleepily.

"Anytime."  She indulged in a few moments of gazing at him, so happy to see him there, safe in her own apartment, before retiring to her bedroom and getting herself ready for bed.  She assumed she'd be up for a few hours more, and she had a few journal articles to read, but found herself fighting sleep not even an hour after Bellamy went to bed.  Apparently, a sleepless night and only a few hours sleep that morning wasn't enough and soon, she gave up trying to stay awake, putting aside her tablet and closing her eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke awoke to the smell of coffee, an infrequent visitor to her apartment since she'd discovered Wawa.  There was something to be said for it, because she awoke with a smile.  Then again, she could be grinning because Bellamy was in her home, not involved with anyone else, and possibly about to get a job in the city in which she lived.

There was something to be said for that too.

Clarke padded out to the kitchen in her striped pajamas and smiled when she found Bellamy hastily recovering her incomplete painting of him.  He knew she didn't like to show her artwork before it was completed, but he'd always been terribly curious about whatever she was working on, so it wasn't the first time she'd caught him peeking.

"Well?" she asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.  Despite herself, she was curious to see what he thought of her work.  Especially the subject matter.

"It's..it's like I remember.  That day, I mean," he replied, sounding awed.  She stole a quick glance at him and saw that the distant look he wore as he recalled their outing to the park.  "You're really talented."

"Well, at the reality-based stuff.  My abstracts are pretty rudimentary," she mentioned, even though it warmed to her hear how much he liked her work. 

"I don't know about that."  Bellamy picked up his own mug from the table and wandered back towards the kitchen.  "How come you chose to paint, uh, me?"

Clarke shrugged, not really trusting herself to look at him.  "I think I just...missed you.  Even when we weren't doing anything specific, it was always nice to just hang out and with you in Europe, we couldn’t do that, so."  She finally gave him a flickering smile.  "Did you sleep well?"

"I was out like a light.  Couch was just as comfortable as I remember it," he assured her, heading for the fridge.  "Let me make you some breakfast.  When do you have to be at work?"

She glanced at the clock on the microwave as she leaned back against the counter.  "In an hour and a half."

"Okay, give me ten minutes and you'll have a breakfast, and I'll pack up most of the leftovers for your lunch and dinner."

"You don't have to do that-"

"You said I'd handle the food," he reminded her, even as he crouched down to look through her cabinet for a frying pan.  "This is me handling it."

"Do I even have food for you to make me breakfast?" Clarke wondered, watching him affectionately while his back was turned.

He nodded.  "Not a lot.  But you have some bread, some eggs.  If you had milk, I'd make you french toast, but as it is, I can make you eggs with a bit of cheese you still have left and toast.  Not the worst way to start the morning."  He glanced over his shoulder at her.  "You know you don't even have any fruit in the house."

"It's been awhile since I could get to the grocery store."

"I'll take care of that today then."  Bellamy stood and gave her a sheepish look.  "That is, if I can borrow your car.  For uh, today and um, tomorrow, to go to my interview?"

"Of course!  I'll just leave you my set of keys, actually, to the apartment and the car.  Just as long as you're here when I get back tomorrow," she teased, already turning to fish out her keychain from her purse.

"Where else would I be?" he joked as he placed the pan on the stove.

Bellamy whipped them up some breakfast in no time flat, but before she quite knew it, she had to rush around to get a shower and get dressed before running out the door.  "I'll be back tomorrow, probably around 3 or 4.  When's your interview again?" she asked as she grabbed her purse, checking to make sure her hospital ID was inside.

"Ten in the morning, so I should definitely be back here by then."  He handed her a bag, noting, "All your food is in there."

"Thanks, Bell," she told him, resisting the urge to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you.  Without you, I'd be sleeping at some cheap motel about to go to a job interview in a crappy suit and sneakers."

She laughed.  "Hey, at least you'd make a definite impression.  I'll see you tomorrow.  And remember, you get the bed tonight.  One of us should have a good night's sleep!"

He gave her a sardonic, two-fingered salute as he leaned on the counter, a fresh mug of coffee in his other hand.  "Will do, Princess."

She wanted to complain about his use of the old nickname, but instead stopped herself.  "Good luck on your interview too.  I'll want to hear all about it when I get home."

He nodded.  "Of course.  Have a good..couple of days at work.  Text me if you need something too.  I could probably drop it at the hospital."

"I'll be fine."  Clarke flashed him another wide smile and then hurried out the door before she found another reason to delay.

Naturally, she couldn't help her unduly happy grin on the ride to work, getting her some strange looks on the subway.  When she met Harper in the staff room, she immediately burst out with her news, unable to contain herself.

"Bellamy's home!  To stay and he's got a job interview locally, so he might just being moving to Philly too."

Harper beamed at her as she closed the door to her locker.  "Oh, good!  I was dying to text you, but I thought, you know, you're probably busy, and then, I was going to do it anyway, but Monty took my phone to not bug you and, you know, pay a little more attention to him," she revealed around a flush.  But then she blinked and cocked her head.   "What about his girlfriend?"

"They broke up.  He said that something was missing, and she kind of knew it too, so when she dumped him when he was flying back, he was okay with it," Clarke explained in a rush as she put her food away in the fridge.  "So, nothing to worry about there."

"Well, Monty won the bet."  When Clarke looked askance at her, she admitted, "We were all talking about what his big news could be last night and we took a bet.  Monty said job, Jasper said he was getting married, Monroe put her money on already married, Mbege said he was moving to Italy permanently."

Clarke gaped at her, though she couldn't really say she was totally surprised.  "What did you bet on?"

"I was the Bet Commissioner, I got to hold the money and declare the winner."

Clarke couldn't help but shake her head.  "You guys really have rules for everything?"

"Pretty much.  It happens when you've been in a group as long as we have."  Harper shrugged into her coat.  "So, does this mean you're going to tell him how you feel?"

Clarke had been pondering that very question.  "I'm...not sure.  Or rather, not sure now is the time?  Like, he  _ just _ broke up with her yesterday...or the day before," she explained.  "And he's got the interview tomorrow.  I think maybe laying that on him right now might not be the best idea…especially since he's staying with me right now and I don't want to make him uncomfortable if he, well, if he doesn't want me in return."  She turned to her friend.  "What do you think?"

"I hear what you're saying," Harper agreed.  "But part of me is like, just go for it, like I did with Monty.  Except.."  She paused.  "I mean, you're right.  I wasn't living with Monty, even in a temporary way, when I confessed to him.  That would have made it a lot harder, I think."

"Right."  Clarke took a breath.  "I think I have to wait.  At least until he knows if he's got this job.  I don't want to distract him right now, or worse, make him feel like he has to reciprocate because he's crashing with me."  She made a face as she stowed away her purse.

Harper nodded sagely.  "Yeah, that might be the safest play."  But then she smiled.  "Okay, ready to face the shift?"

"Yeah.  Actually, I think I kind of need to not think of Bellamy for a bit.  He's home, he's safe.  I'll take that for now."  Clarke punctuated her sentence with a nod.

And she felt very confident with her decision, right up until they hit a lull in patients and she had some time to dwell on the subject again.  In fact, every time she wasn't actively treating a patient or talking about one, she was thinking about the man in her apartment, prepping for his big interview.  Though it was a relief to be able to simply text him normally, instead of having to check his Instagram to make sure he was okay.

Bellamy seemed to be making himself at home, sending her a picture of her newly-restocked fridge later that afternoon, getting some laundry done in her building's room, and commenting on her view.  He even texted to say goodnight to her before going to bed that evening, and she smiled at the message when she read it after she got out of surgery an hour later.

And she was happy with her decision to wait to talk to him about her feelings, right up until they had to rush two college students into emergency surgery at 3 am.  Despite their best efforts, they couldn't save the young man who was the passenger in the car wreck, and she broke the devastating news to his desperate family at dawn that he'd passed on the operating table.

His mother's words in particular haunted her.  

"I just saw him hours ago, he was happy, laughing...He can't be dead, he can't!" she wailed as her sobbing husband tried to comfort her.

It hit Clarke hard.  Just because Bellamy was home didn't mean bad things couldn't still happen to him.   Reeling, she still hadn't made up her mind about it all when she boarded the subway for the ride back home.

Part of her felt like the moment she saw him, she had to say something.  And part of her felt like she'd be imposing on him at the worst time.  Harper's own ambivalence seemed to signal that there just wasn't a right answer, which was certainly a concept Clarke didn't want to think about, so much so, she ended up hovering outside her own apartment door for nearly fifteen minutes when she got there, caught in her own indecision.

Finally, she knocked, tension making her frame rigid.  But when Bellamy opened the door and gave her a huge smile of welcome, all of the fear and worry seemed to flee and she ended up mirroring his grin.

"How'd it go?" she asked immediately as she walked into the apartment.

"Pretty good, I think," he responded as he closed the door behind her.  He'd already changed out of his suit into jeans and a nice blue t-shirt.  "No offense, but you look beat.  Want to talk about this later, after you've had a nap?  I can wake you up as soon as dinner is ready, which should give you at least three hours of solid sleep."

"But I want to hear all about it," she complained as she dumped her purse and bag on the counter.

"And you will, but trust me, it can wait."  He reached out a hand to cup her cheek and she stilled immediately under his touch as he smoothed his thumb gently under her eye.  "You're exhausted.  I know you have naps on overnights or whatever, but it's clearly not enough.  Please tell me you're not working tomorrow."

"No, but I'm on call, if they get swamped or someone else calls out, I'd have to go in."  The feeling of his hand, warm and careful against her face, inexplicably made her both relax and wondering at the burble of warmth that flooded through her body.

"Well, if that's the case, you definitely need a nap now, otherwise, you're going to push yourself into sleeplessness."  He took his hand away, only to try to steer her towards her bedroom.

Clarke smiled, remembering how many times she'd been frantic to finish a paper or a project in school, or during the whirlwind of medical school, and pushed herself past being able to sleep.  Bellamy had usually helped her through those times, plying her with hot beverages and backrubs until she was relaxed enough to fall asleep.

"Okay," she agreed, half-begrudging and half-bemused at her own quick acquiescence.  "But I get the whole story afterwards?"

"And dinner," he promised as she walked into her bedroom.  He grabbed for the doorknob, adding, "Just relax, Clarke.  You've got nothing to worry about.  Just get some sleep."

After he closed the door, she kicked off her shoes and scrambled into a pair of loose shorts and a grey t-shirt before stretching out in bed.  When her head hit the pillow, she immediately picked up that unique, clean Bellamy scent she'd become so used to over the years.  Glad to know that he had used her bed the night before, she turned over, cradling the pillow in her arms and taking a big whiff.

And just like that, she knew she was going to have to tell him as soon as she could that she was in love with him.  It was her last coherent thought before she drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, questions, comments, concerns, feel free to leave me a note.


	10. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke made a decision not to tell him. But can she really hold in her feelings for Bellamy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay on this chapter. Again, real life rears its head. Much thanks to my beta Anne for the quick turnaround on this chapter.

For the second time in three days, Clarke awoke to the smell of something good coming from the kitchen.  She let herself linger in bed for a few minutes, when a glance at the clock told her she'd only been asleep for a couple of hours.  But she did feel better, as Bellamy had predicted and so she just rolled onto her side and inhaled their now-mingled scent on her pillow.

She must have dozed off again because the next thing she felt was a gentle touch on her shoulder and as she turned her head, she found Bellamy smiling down at her.

"Dinner's ready, or almost ready.  I thought I'd give you five minutes warning."

"Thanks," she replied, half sleepy and fully happy.  "I'll be right out."

He seemed about to say something else, but stopped himself, instead nodding and giving her a fond smile before leaving her bedroom.

A peek at the time told her that she'd only dozed for another half an hour, so she didn't feel too lazy as she scrambled into her usual lounging clothes, a pair of soft, thin cotton pants that were a shade too heavy for sleepwear and her last remaining clean t-shirt.

"I have to do laundry tomorrow," she announced as she emerged from her bedroom, pushing her hair back from her face.  "If you have anything left to clean, you can throw it in with my stuff."

"I was going to ask if you wanted me to take care of that when I did mine, but I thought you'd worry that I'd be handling your underwear," Bellamy noted dryly as he stirred something in a pot on the stove.

Clarke rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, because you've never seen female underwear before.  I'd tell you to leave my bras alone, but otherwise, any time you want to do my laundry, be my guest."  Noticing that he'd already set out some tableware on the counter, she took a seat on one of the stools.  "Smells fantastic, whatever is in there."

"Don't women have a thing about guys handling their underwear?" he asked, pulling the pot from the stove and beginning to dish out what appeared to be nothing more than spaghetti onto the plates.  Clarke couldn't quite believe the enticing smell was coming from something as simple as a dish she could make herself.

"Only if those guys are fondling them and sniffing them.  I don't think that's your game," she answered, leaning forward as he pooled the noodles on her plate.  "Okay, why does this smell so different from normal spaghetti?"

"It's not quite spaghetti, honestly.  This is something that Gina's family makes for a quick dinner, but it's one of the best things I ate on my entire trip."  When she automatically looked around for the parmesan cheese to sprinkle on top, he chuckled.  "Try it first."

She eyed him for a moment, but soon twirled some of the noodles around her fork and took a bite.  A moment later, while still chewing, she put her hand to her mouth while Bellamy just smiled knowingly.

"Holy shit," she finally managed after swallowing.  "That was…"  She blinked.  "It's all tomato and oil and garlic and basil and mozzarella and...whoa."  She immediately took another bite, needing to get another taste. 

He pulled his own plate over as he settled into the seat next to hers.  "I know what you mean.  First time I ate this, I couldn't believe it tasted so good.   Part of it is fresh ingredients - literally it's all fresh, from the pasta to the herbs - but it's also about the proportions.  They use more olive oil, and better olive oil, and tomatoes chopped and cooked a certain way, and...yeah."  He nodded.  "Whole different style."  He put down his own fork and abruptly stood.  "I forgot the wine."

"Wine too?" Clarke wondered.  She carefully gathered another forkful of pasta and asked hopefully, "Are we celebrating something?"  

"More like I'm trying to bribe you."  He deftly uncorked the bottle and retrieved a couple of glasses to fill up.  "The interview went well.  But that just means I've been invited to give a guest lecture, sort of like a tryout.  They said probably first week of December.  If that goes well, then there will be another interview and then, maybe an offer."  He shrugged as he placed one of the wine glasses in front of her.  "I think I'll be one of three invited to talk, so it's not like this is all a formality, but either way, I have to stay local while this all shakes out.  So I'm hoping I can crash here until I know.  It'll be weeks, really, though, you know, uh, I could just go back to Arkadia and then come back in-"

"Are you crazy?"  Clarke blinked at him.  "Of course you can stay here!  You literally didn't have to ask.  I was planning on you being here."  She blew out a breath, knowing immediately how that sounded.  "I mean, what was the alternative?  You going to your sister's?  I wasn't for that in June, I'm not for that now."  She thought she sounded pretty credible.

His shoulders sagged with relief, surprising Clarke, who couldn't imagine that he'd think she'd refuse him.  So she followed that up with, "You're my best friend, Bell.  And you know we get along well, even if you do keep peeking at my artwork.  Of course I'm not going to send you back to Arkadia.  Hell.."  She bit her lip.  "It'd be great to have my best friend here with me.  I have friends here, but...you know, it's different."

"Yeah?" Bellamy asked, face coloring just enough for her to know that she'd made him blush.  He took a sip of his own wine and got back into his seat.  "I thought you were doing better at making friends here."

"I am!  I have.  Or maybe Harper just decided to be my friend and adopted me into her friend group.  But whatever," Clarke admitted as she leaned back in her seat.  "Even if I am friends with all of them now, they didn't go through what we did together.  You know, raising a bunch of college kids and getting each other through school.  I just...you're the person I'm most comfortable with in the whole world.  Why wouldn't I want you here?"

She knew she'd probably tipped her hand so she reached for her wineglass and added quickly, before Bellamy could reply, "And you asked if you could stay.  What reason would I have to say no?"

"You could not want someone camping out on your couch for weeks on end.  You could want to date someone, or-"

"Oh my god, you asked if you wanted to stay, I said yes, and now you're trying to convince me not to let you stay?"  She knew her face was flushed, but was hopeful he'd chalk it up to the wine.

"I'm not trying to convince you otherwise!" he denied vehemently.  "I'm just trying to make sure you've thought it through and-"

"I was going to invite you stay in June but then you ran off to Europe, so yes, I thought about it.  It's not ideal, and I probably should've gotten a bigger place, but we're here now.  Worse comes to worst, I'll break the lease and get a larger apartment.  Seriously, no big deal."

"No, don't spend extra money because of me.  You're already letting me stay and being very cool about that, so thank you," Bellamy was quick to protest and Clarke hid a smile as she turned back to her food.  No easier way to get her friend to drop his protests then to up the ante on her generosity.  

"You're welcome.  Of course, like I said, it's a good deal for me too.  Great company, good food," she answered, lifting her laden fork in a toast.  "Which you should eat while it's hot, especially since you made it."

He knocked his shoulder into hers and quipped, "Well, now that you've given me permission, Princess."

She stuck her tongue out at him, which he pronounced, "very mature," and they quickly settled into a companionable dinner conversation.  She mentioned that her friends in the city were kicking around the idea of meeting for dinner and ice cream the next evening, an event she quickly invited him to as well, convinced as she was that they'd welcome him as much as they'd welcomed her.

After she stuffed herself silly, Clarke insisted on doing the dishes, though she kept up the conversation as she worked to load the dishwasher.  "Tomorrow, we need to get you your own key to this place."

"Are you sure?" Bellamy asked, crouching down to put away the container of leftover pasta in her fridge.

"Yes. You're going to be here for weeks, minimum, and hopefully, local, long-term, so you should have a key to my place regardless.  Oh, and Thanksgiving is coming up.  Are you going back up to Arkadia to be with Octavia?"

"This year, she and Lincoln are going down to Virginia to be with his family, actually."  He polished off the last of the wine in his glass before handing it to her.  "I figure I can crash Miller's."

"Or just stay here with me.  Mom is coming down to visit, though obviously she'd be in a hotel, but that way you'd get a nice fancy Thanksgiving without having to cook it yourself," she offered, flashing him a grin.  

"You're sure?  I know how close you two are and I don't want to impose on your family Thanksgiving, especially since you don't see her that often  and I'm imposing just by being here for weeks."

She rolled her eyes, a bit annoyed with how hard he seemed to be working to uninvite himself to events.  "Please don't make us go through that again.  Like my mother doesn't think of you as part of the family at this point."

When she glanced over at him, he had a knowing expression on his face as he leaned against the counter.  "I guess you just think of me as your brother at this point."

Clarke instantly knew that she could let his comment go.  Everything she'd told Harper was still true.  Just because she had feelings for him didn't obligate him to return them and making their tight living situation awkward wasn't something she wanted either. 

But worse would the implicit lie sitting between them if she didn't correct his assumption.  This was Bellamy, her best friend, her Person, the love of her life.  And she couldn't lie to him about something so integral, so basic about their relationship.

She turned back to the dishes though, unable to face him as she spoke.  "I don't think of you as a brother.  I think of Wells like that.  You're….different.  Of course I love you, like a friend, and something more, and you're as much a part of the people I think of as 'home' as my mother.  You're never imposing on me."

A heavy silence followed and after she couldn't stand it any longer, she turned to find Bellamy staring at her.  Despite all their years together, she couldn't read his face beyond the shock she found there.

"I don't..I don't expect you to feel exactly the same way of course," she added hastily, wiping her hands on a towel.  "Or make you think that I expect something from you besides friendship.  I just...I don't want you to think something wrong about how I think, how I feel about you."

Clarke wasn't prepared for his response when he finally found his voice.

"Two and a half a years."

"What?" she asked in confusion.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head, pulling him completely out of his stupor.  "I've been in love with you for two and a half years.  I...never thought you'd see me like this.  I tried to..get over it, but I couldn't.  Being with someone like Gina really made me see it. I tried with her, I really did.  But it wasn't right, to be with her, when in my head, I was thinking of you.  I'm completely in love you and being with someone else, just made it all worse."

She couldn't believe it.  "Two and a half years?  Why didn't you say anything?" she demanded, thinking of all the time they could have spent together.  How much nicer her last years of medical training would have been if she could've crawled into his arms after a bad day or if she could've relieved some of his stress while he was writing and defending his dissertation.  She had no doubt that if he'd revealed his feelings for her when he realized them, she'd have instantly reciprocated.  

Because he was  _ Bellamy _ .  Warm and intelligent, protective and tough, with the same crappy sense of humor that she had herself.  He was a match for her temper, for her drive, her libido….she couldn't deny how gorgeous he was.

"We could've...for  _ two and a half years _ ?" she asked, groaning at the wasted time.

He looked incredulous.  "You never gave me any hint that you might think of me as anything more than a good friend!"

"Well, I didn't until I did!  I just had to think about it!"  Or more, to the point, she knew herself.  When others had pointed out their natural chemistry, she'd immediately dismissed it.  But if Bellamy had said something?  She trusted his judgment like no one else's, except her own.  "You could have said something...I mean, did you think I'd just.."

Bellamy gaped at her.  "I didn't want to make things weird between us.  Worse than seeing you with someone else is not seeing you at all!"

"You think I would treat you different because you liked me?"

"No!  Not liked."  His face grew hard.  "I loved you.  I  _ love _ you, present tense.  I didn't want to put any kind of wall between us and there would've been one if I loved you but you didn't love me.  I...couldn't risk it."

She watched him carefully, saw the agony on his face, how tortured he felt about keeping this all from her.  But she couldn't help but wonder, "But...why would you think I'd ice you out?  I didn't reject Wells when he thought he loved me like a girlfriend in college.  And you know that!  You were there for that!"

"How are we having an argument about this when we both love each other?" Bellamy almost shouted, clearly aggravated.  "What are we even fighting about?"

"Because we're us?"  Clarke waved a hand, exasperated.

They were frozen for only a few seconds before they both started laughing and grinning at each other.  She knew her smile must have been as wide as his own, but she couldn't help the goofy feeling of relief and happiness that flooded through her.  Bellamy loved her and she loved him and they were going to be living together and pretty much everything was perfect.

Well, almost.

The moment she thought about it, she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around him, tilting her head up to find his lips with her own.  The moment he leaned forward into her embrace and their mouths crashed together, it felt so right, so natural, she couldn't believe it had taken them so long.

He coaxed her mouth open and she sighed happily, turning her head as his tongue swept into her mouth.  Far from relieving the growing tension in her body, the kiss just coiled more tightly within her and she slipped her hands under his shirt, desperate to touch his body directly. 

Bellamy startled at the touch, breaking their kiss so abruptly that she briefly chased his lips.  "Your hands are  _ cold _ ," he complained, but his happiness seemed to literally radiate from his smile as his hands cupped her face gently.

"I was just washing the dishes," she acknowledged, but didn't take her hand always from him, enjoying the feel of his heat.  "I'm sure they'll warm up soon if we keep going."

"I guess the dishes can wait," he readily agreed, dipping his head for another kiss, this one short, but with a promise of more to come.

"Fuck the dishes," she confirmed, getting another quick kiss from him and beginning to walk back towards her bedroom, a coy smile on her face.

"I'm not going to go for the obvious joke there," he replied, grinning as he followed her through the doorway.  

Clarke chuckled and bit her lip for a moment as she considered him, looking so pleased and so handsome, his hair just a bit disheveled, the hem of his t-shirt askew, she couldn't help but add, "God, you're gorgeous."

"Have you seen yourself?" he asked.  "I still can't believe this is actually happening."

She surged forward again, tangling her fingers into his shirt and giving him another kiss, this one deeper, wetter than the first.

"Believe it now?" she asked him breathlessly when she pulled away, but gratified to see how dark his eyes had become.  He wasted no time seeking another kiss, his hands burrowing underneath her shirt to stroke at her sides.

Which meant they were way overdressed.

"Shirts," she said, when he moved his lips to her neck.  "And everything else," she added.

"Is that how this works?" he rumbled against her skin, making her laugh.  

"If you let me go long enough, we can even make it to a bed," she teased, even as she wrapped an arm around him to hold him closer.

He lifted his head to smile down at her, but she could feel his heart still hammering through his chest.  "This isn't about taking you to bed.  Or...not just about taking you to bed."

"I know.  It's the same for me," she promised, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw.  She enjoyed the peace of the moment, closing her eyes and settling her head on his chest, even as her own heart continued to race with excitement.

"Of course, since there is a bed…," he trailed off as he eased her shirt up, gently pulling it free of her hair.  

She returned the favor almost solemnly, only to smile up at him as her hand slide down his chest and admit, "It's nice to be able to admire this openly."

"If you only knew how many times I've thought about this moment," he answered.  Spurred on by her intrigued look, he elaborated as he guided her back towards the bed.  "How you'd look when I made you come.  What you sounded like.  It usually starts a lot like this, with kissing and a bed."

"I hope I can live up to the dream," she replied, sitting on the bed as soon as she felt it behind her and pulling him with her as she scooted back until he was firmly on top of her.  She shivered as his body pressed hers into the mattress and looked up into his dark eyes with heated anticipation.

"You're far and away better than a dream," he said with such sincerity that she couldn't help but lean up to kiss him again, her fingers carding through his hair.  Conversation forgotten, they seemed in a frenzy to show each other exactly how they felt, hands roaming everywhere, the rest of their clothing tossed away carelessly until Bellamy lifted his kiss-bruised mouth from her breasts to grin up at her.

"We have all night," he reminded her, pulling her hands from his cock before sliding a finger through her dampened cleft.  She shattered for the first time on his hand, while he watched her intently, then demanded more when he pulled back.  She impatiently waited as he ran back out to his bag in the living room to grab a condom, only to beam when he reappeared with the whole box.

"I like the way you think," she beckoned him closer, only to roll him under her when he returned to bed.  She kissed him deeply while teasing his length until he was groaning against her mouth, then slipped the condom on him before sinking down to sheath him entirely.  She threw her head back at the stretch and the heat of him, moaned as he sat up and they began to move in unison.  She came apart heartbeats before he did and she lingered in his arms before helping him clean up in between giggling kisses.

Clarke nuzzled at his shoulder when they stretched back out in bed, fingers tripping playfully across his stomach.  She couldn't help but muse that they were just getting started, in the bedroom and in life, and how she'd never felt more euphoric.

"When do you think you'll be able to go again?" she wondered, even as his hand traced lazy circles on her back.

She felt Bellamy's laugh before she heard it and grinned up at him when he said, "It must be nice to be a girl."

"I've always thought so," she agreed.  "But I think it's nicest to be in love."

Judging from the way he kissed, she thought he wholeheartedly agreed.

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke stared up at the ceiling as her heartbeat slowly returned to normal, running her fingers absently through Bellamy's hair where it rested on her stomach.  She'd woken up first and waited until he showed signs of rousing before going down on him and he'd returned the favor nearly immediately.  It was a very pleasant way to start the morning.

That she was starting it with someone she loved and who loved her in return was more than pleasant.

But it didn't quite remedy the fact that she still had something very important to tell him.  They have moved so quickly the night before from declaring their feelings to acting on them - several times - that she hadn't gotten the chance to let him know how she saw the two of them being together.

Not that she had to do it this very moment, when they were both clearly so comfortable lazing in bed.  This was a new intimacy for them, the physical kind, and she didn't want to disturb the peace that had settled over them.

In the silence of her room, the gurgling of her stomach sounded loudly.

Bellamy chuckled, turning his head to rest his chin on her belly.  "Hungry?"

"I suppose, but this is nice," Clarke admitted, gazing down at him through the valley of her breasts.

"It is, but I'm not about to let you go hungry.  My only job right now is keeping you fed," he joked.

"Your job, self-assigned, I might say, is getting a job.  I don't really care if you take over the food.  I just know you're already thinking about how you'd rearrange the cabinets and you'll get all annoyed at my eating habits anyway," she responded affectionately, brushing some of the hair back from his forehead.  Before he could answer, she added, "I'm just saying...we're in this together.  I'm not and I don't feel weird about you being here and not having a job yet.  I'm not going to hassle you about that and I don't want you to think I'm going to get annoyed about that."

Bellamy sat up, kneeling on the bed beside her and she watched the conflicting emotions play out on his face, that clearly he wanted to both tell a crappy joke and protest that he didn't want to simply mooch off her.

She smiled affectionately.  "Tell the joke first," she invited.

He huffed.  "Is this your way of telling me you're thinking I'm the one who's going to be home with the kids when we have them?"

Clarke laughed, delighted that he was thinking so far ahead.  For all she knew they were jumping into being together as a couple, she didn't have any doubts about where they would end up.  Hell, she'd been idly toying with the notion of suggesting they get married pretty soon anyway, at least to get him on her health insurance.

"You're better with kids, but no, I'm not assuming anything yet about our kids," she replied as she sat up, gathering the sheet to tuck under her arms.  Not that she felt uncomfortable being nude around him, but more for a barrier between her arm and her chest so she could support her boobs.  "You aren't just someone that I'm dating.  I know you; I've known you for years.  We've been through everything together.  You're….home, to me.  The only question is...what does together look like for us, so I'm..trying to say what I want it to look like, because that's how I feel like we should be."  She sighed, knowing she didn't have his way with words, but hoping he understood all the same.

Bellamy sat back, looking at her pensively.  "I...get that.  I..it's hard for me, still being at loose ends.  If I don't...assign myself something to do, I'm going to drive us both crazy."

"I get it, so do whatever you want.  I'm just not upset in the slightest, so don't feel like I will be," she replied, offering him a smile.  "I want you find the right job for you. I'm perfectly okay with being the paycheck.  You know I have the money, we're in a good spot."  She stretched out a hand towards him and he shuffled forward on the bed to lay next to her, entwining their fingers and giving hers a squeeze.

Clarke snuggled into his side.  "I got you."

"Yeah, you do," he agreed, shifting so he could hold her close and pressed a kiss to her hair.  "But I'm still going to pull my weight around here."  He glanced around her bedroom and added, "And as soon as I do get a job, we have to move into a bigger place.  There's no room for my books here."

"We could move now-"

"No," he interrupted, voice firm.  "When I get a job. My books can live in storage for a while longer."

The way he spoke about it, she knew that it was important to him that she not spend any more money on him than necessary.  So she merely kissed his jaw affectionately and nodded.  "Okay."

Bellamy smiled down at her and brushed some of the curls away from her face.  "What should we do today?  You're off, right?"

"On call, but yes," she confirmed, mouth quirking.  "I need to do laundry, but otherwise, I’m thinking a lot of sex.  Maybe meet my friends for dinner, but that's totally negotiable."

He chuckled, capturing her mouth with a kiss and pushing her to lie back on the bed.  "I like that plan," he admitted when he took a breath and moved to nibble on her neck.  

Clarke took the opportunity to let her fingers tangle into his hair again, murmuring, "I love your curls."

"I noticed," he said against her skin, licking his way up to her ear.  She closed her eyes and let one of her hands trail down the smooth skin of his back, happy to know this would be the first of many mornings like this.  But she laughed when a thought occurred her, which prompted him to stop his attentions and grin down at her.

"Care to share the joke?" he asked her, tickling her side.  "Or is your attention not sufficiently occupied right now?"

She beamed up at him.  "It just occurred to me that we'll be able to have make-up sex after our fights now, not just conciliatory dinners and binge-watching Netflix."

He laughed.  "You're excited about the prospect of our fights?"

"No, I'm excited about the prospect of what is sure to be really, really good sex."

Bellamy shook his head, noting bemusedly, "You know we could be having really, really good sex now?"  

"It's not the same kind of really, really good sex though," she protested.

"So you want us to have a fight so we can experience a different kind of good sex?"

"Well, ideally, we'll experience all the kinds of good sex eventually.  Make-up sex. Celebratory sex. Cheer me up sex. Shower sex."  She smirked.  "Make me pregnant sex."

He chuckled and leaned down to give her a soft kiss.  "That definitely sounds good.  In a couple of years, maybe?  I mean, we just got done getting all our college kids out the door."

"Agreed.  We have to have a lot of vacation sex too and that's easier without kids," she added, making him laugh.  "Spain, right?"

"Spain," he agreed, trailing a hand down her face fondly.  

They were still just grinning at each other when her phone rang, making her wince.  "Of fucking course," she grumbled.

He nodded knowingly and reached over to her nightstand to retrieve the phone for her, handing it over.  She saw right away though that it wasn't the hospital, but instead her mother.

"Mom?" she answered the call quickly, sitting up as Bellamy hurried straightened.  "Is something wrong?"  It wasn't like her to call while at work.

"Oh, no no.  I've just been meaning to ask you something and I kept putting it off and I wanted to do this before I could procrastinate again," Abby reassured her.  

She quickly gave Bellamy a thumbs up to let him know there wasn't a problem and she smiled to see him immediately relax.  He mouthed that he was going to the bathroom and she nodded as she replied to her mother.  "Oh, okay.  Procrastinating doesn't sound like you.  What's going on?  Are you still coming for Thanksgiving?"

"Yes, I am.  I was thinking, if you didn't mind, maybe Marcus could come with me?  We'd be staying in a hotel, obviously, but I think you were just thinking it would be the two of us."

Clarke chuckled. "Of course I don't mind.  I told you I like Marcus and it'll be nice to have him here for Thanksgiving."  She glanced towards the open door of bathroom, eyeing Bellamy as he ambled in after having pulled on his boxers.  "Actually, Bellamy will be here too."

"Really?  He's back from his European adventure?"

"Yeah, he's interviewing for a position at a local college."  Clarke tugged up her sheet and smiled down at her lap.  "He's staying with me, and well, we're together now, actually.  He'll probably insist on helping you cook the dinner too. "  She paused, waiting for her mother's response.  

"Oh."  More than anything else, Abby sounded pleased.  "I've always liked Bellamy."

Clarke glanced through the open doorway, watching his back as he brushed his teeth over the sink, his boxers sliding perilously low.

"Me too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end, folks! Thank you so much to everyone who read along, left kudos and comments. Extra special thanks to Anne for reading through all my typos and issues. 
> 
> And of course, thank you once more to Charlie, whose donation to the NRDC and prompt made this fic possible.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Thanksgiving comes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who asked, here's a short glimpse of Thanksgiving.

"I don't know why you're so nervous," Clarke teased her boyfriend, as he checked, for the fourth time, that the turkey was defrosted enough for her mother to immediately dress and put it in the oven.  "You've met my mother plenty of times, and Marcus too."

Bellamy pulled a face as he straightened and glanced over at Clarke, who was seated at the kitchen counter, nursing a seltzer and lime.  "Not ever when I was  _ with _ you.  I'm pretty sure her standard for your significant others is higher than her standards for your friends."

"Um...I don't know that that's true?"  She  rolled her eyes as he turned away to look through all the prepared food in the fridge, running through the list of what he'd promised her mother he'd have ready by the time she showed up.  "You need to relax."

He ran a hand through his hair and gave her his grumpy face, so she beckoned him closer with two crooked fingers.  "Seriously, why are you so anxious?  Is it the job thing?  Because I promise you, my mom and Marcus totally understand.  You know how involved they are in fundraising for educational causes.  They understand how things are so fucked up in that area."

When he slotted himself between her legs, she took the opportunity to wrap her arms around his neck comfortingly and waited for his response.

Bellamy looked down, admitting sheepishly.  "I'm afraid they're going to look at me differently now.  I mean, before, I was your friend.  Now...now I'm the guy who's...porking you."

Clarke couldn't help the surprised laughter that flew out, but clung to his neck to prevent him from pulling away.  "Is that how you're going to introduce yourself today?" she teased, kissing his cheek.  "My live-in porker?"

He whined, but admitted, "No.  I mean, yes, I worry that i’ll blurt something out about sleeping with you, since, well, it's pretty fucking obvious we share a bed, and I've never had a 'meet the parents' thing before…"

"Well, again, you've met them before and they already like you," she pointed out.   "But I don't think it's really hard to avoid all mentions of boning me, or making gentlemanly love to me, or ravishing me, or having your penis penetrate my-"

He clapped a hand over her mouth, pretty much covering her happy grin.

"All right," he half-growled.  "You've made your point."  He jerked his hand away when she licked his palm.  "How are you so...relaxed about this?"

"Because you're my Person, and also my boyfriend, and my mother is delighted - that's  _ delighted  _ \- that I'm in a serious relationship with someone who understands and supports my chosen career while also being accomplished himself and kind and handsome and dependable.  Plus, you cook, like her, so she has someone to share recipes with and talk foodie things with, and not worry so much about my nutrition.  Oh, and you're from the Arkadia area too, so she can indulge herself in the fantasy that we're totally going to move back there one day."

By the end of her little speech, Bellamy was smiling.  "Oh?  It's a fantasy?  You've already the made the decision that we're never going back?"

"No, I'm just saying we're not at that decision yet.  My residency is going to be hella long, as you know, and who knows where I'll get a permanent position eventually.  Or you!" she replied.  "We might have to move one day for your job, not mine."

"You're saying you'd move for me?" he asked, leaning down for a kiss that suggested so much more.

"Mmm-hmm," she agreed a moment later, head cocking to one side.  "Our porking is really the best porking I've ever had.  I'm not going to give that up so easily."

She yelped when he tickled her side in retaliation.

But, true to her prediction, the day went off without a hitch.  Her mother and Marcus arrived in good spirits, Bellamy and her mother worked well together in the kitchen with Clarke and Marcus acting as assistants, they watched a sci-fi movie on Netflix about a future with a one-child only policy and debated the ethics of it while the meal cooked, and then continued to chat over the expansive meal.

Marcus and Bellamy stepped outside onto the balcony after the meal, to get some fresh air, even aid in their digestion before dessert.  Meanwhile, Abby had teased Clarke into the kitchen, to help her cut up and serve the pie.

"You're a surgeon, Clarke, but you mangle pies when you serve them.  I'm going to show you how to do this properly."

"It all ends up mangled on my plate when I'm eating it, but okay, Mom," Clarke answered good-naturedly. 

When she had successfully plated a picture-perfect slice, her mother beamed.  "That's my girl."  Abby's gaze flickered towards the balcony.  "Thank you for letting me bring Marcus.  Today's been really wonderful."

"Of course, Mom.  I told you, I like Marcus."  Clarke gave her a grin as she scooped out some vanilla bean ice cream onto the plate by the pie.  "And I knew he and Bell would have a lot to talk about."

"That's true."  Abby smiled.  "I know you used to tell me that you wouldn't end up with Bellamy, but I have to say, I'm really happy for you.  He's a good person and I'm glad you found someone like that to make you happy."

Clarke beamed at her mother.  "Thanks, Mom."  She chuckled.  "I told him you were happy for us, but he was all nervous this morning before you arrived, worried about your opinion."

"Whatever for?  Bellamy knows I like him!"

"Okay, this is silly," Clarke acknowledged.  "But he thought since we obviously had an adult relationship, with all that it implies, that you'd evaluate him differently now."

Abby laughed lightly.  "Should I be worried that I give off a prudish vibe?" she wondered as she plated another slice of pie.

"No, no, he's never really 'met the parents' before and he hyped it up in his mind."  Clarke laughed as she pulled out some clean forks from the drawer.  "He even thought he'd blurt out something inappropriate in his nervousness, about 'porking me,' if you can believe it."

Abby's laughter was louder this time, drawing the men back inside.  

"Care to share the joke?" Marcus asked with a fond smile, taking one of the plates.

Bellamy looked at Clarke curiously, who merely waved to her mother to explain, while handing him a plate of his own.

"It's just...I didn't think people still used that term," Abby explained, leading them back to the dining room table.

"What term?" Bellamy wondered before taking a bite of the pie.

"Porking."

He spit out the bite in his mouth while Clarke laughed.


End file.
